Choices
by AuthoressMegz
Summary: "It is our choices...that show what we truly are." The Potter/Weasley children and their friends make choices concerning the people they meet and the paths they choose that shape their very futures. A collection of next generation oneshots.
1. Sorted

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize as belonging to J.K. Rowling. I am not making money off this story; I am simply writing it for my own amusement and that of those who may stumble across it.

A/N: I'm in the planning process of a next generation fic at the moment, so I'm writing all these little oneshots to kind of set the stage for that. So I'll update this periodically as I write more. Just be aware that this is not a full-length story, just a collection of several short stories. Hope you enjoy.

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**CHOICES**

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_"It is our choices...that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." -Albus Dumbledore_

* * *

Sorted

"Potter, Albus."

This was it, then. This moment. Everything - the goodbyes at King's Cross, the train ride with Rose and James and James's friends, the boat ride across the lake (two people had fallen in, much to everyone's amusement), the trek up the lawn toward the looming castle, the greeting from the deputy headmaster Professor Wickham, waiting and waiting and _waiting_ to be let into the Great Hall, his momentary distractedness because of the hundreds of floating candles and enchanted ceiling, the anticipation - everything had been leading up to this exact moment.

Albus Potter took a deep breath. His cousin Rose squeezed his hand and gave him what he knew she meant to be an encouraging smile. Albus just felt queazy. He made his way up in front of all of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and sat down on the three-legged wooden stool. Professor Wickham gave him an indiscernible look as he set the patched old Sorting Hat on Albus's head.

The brim of the hat fell right down over Albus's face, hiding his view of the rest of the school. He was somewhat grateful no one could see his face.

_"Ah," _a voice said in his ear, making him jump. He hoped no one noticed. "_What a bright mind we have here." _Could the Hat read his mind? "_Well of course, how else do you think I know where to put you?"_

Albus had to admit, he hadn't thought of that.

_"Now, you have quite the mind here. Very open to knowledge and eager. Eager to prove yourself, aren't you?"_

_Please, Mr. Sorting Hat, _he thought, remembering his father's words from the train station. _I want to be in Gryffindor._

_"Well, that _is _a bold request," _the Hat mused. Albus felt a jolt of pleasure. Bold, that's right. "_However..."_ His heart plummeted. "_You are very ambitious and clever, aren't you? You'd do very well in Slytherin."_

"No," he whispered desperately. "Please."

_"Just like your father." _The Hat seemed to sigh. That gave Albus pause.

_Just like my father?_ He pondered that. He had been told his entire life how much he was like his father. Random people Albus had never even seen or heard of often stopped Harry Potter on the street, thanking him for something or other. Albus usually tuned these conversations out, assuming the people were associated with his father's work, which he wasn't interested in.

However, the conversation inevitably turned to Albus every time. People always leaned down to him - like he couldn't hear them just fine if they stood up straight - and said, "Oh, but don't you look _just _like your father?" It wasn't that though that bothered him, though he was well aware of his looks. (He'd always felt the urge to say, "I don't see the resemblance" completely deadpan just to see what people would do. But that was something James would do, and his mother would kill him for being rude.)

The follow-up questions were worse though. "Do you make as much trouble as your father did when he was your age?" they sometimes asked. Albus always replied that he didn't; that was James's job. They always laughed as though he'd just told an outrageously funny joke, though he'd been completely serious, and then they usually ruffled his hair, which he hated.

Sometimes they asked him if he was as good at Quidditch as his parents. "Of course not," he always wanted to answer, "I'm _eleven_." He was by no means an awful flier - he really enjoyed Quidditch, and the Potter family often played pickup games in their back yard - but what if he weren't? What if he was absolute rubbish at flying? Would that make him less of a Potter? No. He didn't think it was fair that everyone just expected that of him.

And if people weren't comparing him to his father, they were comparing him to James. James was the jokester, the prankster, the trouble-maker, the charming one. Anyone who knew James seemed to think an appropriate greeting for Albus was a joke. Albus didn't even particularly like jokes. He always just stared at people when they told jokes, which he knew bothered them. It was kind of amusing for him. James always told him how weird his sense of humor was.

And when people weren't telling jokes, they were telling stories about pranks they'd pulled or seen someone else pull, as though that would interest him. Albus _hated _pranks. He didn't understand why humiliating someone was so much fun.

Unless it was James being humiliated. That was okay.

"Just like my father..." he whispered to himself. He didn't like how that sounded. He thought about what his dad had said earlier that day on the platform. He had sounded sincere when he'd said it would be okay for Albus to be in Slytherin.

And what if he were a Gryffindor? He'd never thought twice about it before; he'd always wanted to be in Gryffindor - had never questioned that. But as he thought about it, he realized what being in Gryffindor would entail: always overshadowed by James, always struggling to live up to his father's reputation, always striving to make a name for himself outside of the stereotype people seemed to have already created for him. He'd already spent the last eleven years overshadowed by James and his father.

James was only eighteen months older than Albus, yet he always got to do everything first. He had walked first, talked first, learned to fly first, gotten his own broom first, went to his first professional Quidditch game first, had gotten to go to Hogwarts first. James was sorted into Gryffindor first, would be on a house Quidditch team first, would probably have his first girlfriend and first kiss first, would go to Hogsmeade first and take Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid first. James was always first.

Albus wanted to be first at something. The first Potter in Slytherin didn't seem such a bad start. What was so bad about Slytherin anyway? Albus suddenly couldn't remember why James and his uncle Ron detested them so much. They couldn't be that bad, could they? He had accidentally bumped into that Scorpius Malfoy boy earlier, and he had been perfectly civil about it, and he had just been sent to Slytherin a few minutes ago.

_"Still so set on Gryffindor?" _the Hat asked, sounding hopeful.

"No," Albus whispered. "No, I don't want to be in Gryffindor, Hat. I'm sick of doing everything second. I want to be first."

_"Yes. Alright."_

The Hat sounded almost gleeful when it shouted for all to hear, _"SLYTHERIN!"_

James was already on his feet, preparing an almighty cheer. The other first years at the Gyffindor table had already made room for him. Half of the Gryffindors had their hands half-raised in applause. All came to a screeching halt as the shout rang through the Hall.

Professor McGonagall would later say she had never heard the Great Hall so silent.

Nothing happened for a solid thirty seconds. Then Albus began to make his way toward the silver-and-green-clad table.

The Slytherin table seemed to finally realize what was going on as a hesitant round of applause started up.

Albus was very aware of the shocked stares he was receiving as he made his way to his new house table. He didn't care though. He held his head up high as he took a seat next to Scorpius Malfoy. He was not ashamed.


	2. Brax

Author's Note: These oneshots will by no means follow in chronological order. The last "chapter" was from Albus's first day at Hogwarts, and this is from one year earlier, James's first train ride.

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Brax

James hadn't really known what to expect, but it wasn't this. He stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express morosely, depressed at the emptiness of the compartment he was sitting in.

He had imagined everything much differently. He had imagined finding a compartment packed with other students, walking in and introducing himself, telling a joke and making everyone laugh and instantly becoming friends with everyone. He had imagined himself surrounded by people who thought he was interesting, cool and funny.

Instead he was sitting in a compartment by himself.

He'd tried finding a place in a compartment with other kids in it - he'd walked into three actually, with the intent to introduce himself and make friends - but they'd all been full, and he had been turned away.

If he wanted to, he supposed he could go find one of his cousins - Merlin knew they were scattered all over the train - but he didn't want to force his presence on them and their friends. As fun as that was at Grandma Weasley's, he didn't want to earn himself a reputation for being the annoying tag-along kid his first day.

"Hey, give it back!"

James looked up at the shout from the train corridor. He moved to the door and slid it open curiously.

"C'mon, give it back. It was expensive."

"_Expensive, _huh? Maybe I should just keep it for you. You know, so it doesn't get broken."

"No, seriously. Please give it back."

"_Please give it back. _Yeah right."

James watched the exchange with furrowed eyebrows, trying to make sense of what was happening. A boy about James's height was standing in front of a taller boy already wearing his school robes. A look at his tie told James he was a Slytherin.

The taller boy was holding a large glass bottle. Closer inspection showed it to have a miniature Quidditch pitch inside, complete with little figures zooming around on tiny broomsticks. James had heard of those; he had begged his father for one for his birthday last year.

"That thing would last two minutes in our house," Harry Potter had replied, much to Jaems's chagrin. He'd gotten a new broomstick instead though, so he hadn't complained.

"Please give it back," the smaller boy was saying now. "My dad gave it to me for my birthday."

"_My daddy gave it to me for my birfday,_" the boy mimicked. Then he laughed. "You know what? Tomorrow is _my_ birthday. This can be your gift to me." He reached out and ruffled the other boy's hair before turning to walk away.

"No! Give it _back!" _The boy launched himself at the Slytherin, sending him sprawling to the floor. The Quidditch pitch in a bottle went rolling down the corridor. James slipped out of his compartment and trotted after it.

After retrieving it, he set it gently on a seat in his compartment before going back into the corridor.

The Slytherin was sitting on the other boy's chest now, his wand pointed in the kid's face.

"Hey, leave him alone," James spoke up. Both boys looked at him in shock, not having realized he was there.

"Make me," the Slytherin sneered. James heaved an almighty sigh.

"I don't want to," he warned, completely deadpan. "My dad always tells me I shouldn't hurt people with my magic."

The Slytherin faltered just slightly. Then he seemed to regain composure. "You're bluffing."

James shrugged. "Fine. I'm bluffing then. If you're really willing to take that risk." He stared the older boy down, daring him to call him a liar.

"I don't believe you," he said, standing up and striding over to stand in front of James.

James sighed again. "Well have it your way then. But I should warn you, my brother spent an entire week in St. Mungo's once because he broke my toy broom. In my defense, I was six at the time and couldn't control my magic. But last summer, my little sister stole my favorite Quidditch robes and I got so mad, and..._poof," _he said, making a little explosion motion with his hand.

"Poof?" the Slytherin asked skeptically.

"Yep. She just disappeared. Took us three hours to find her. I'd accidentally sent her to the bottom of the pond in the woods. Good thing she can swim, huh?" James said, shaking his head sorrowfully.

"I'm not scared of you."

"Suit yourself," James said, pulling out his wand. He raised it as though to cast a spell, eyeing the Slytherin experimentally. When the boy's expression didn't waver, he brought his wand down. The boy smirked.

"Was that supposed to scare me?"

"No," James admitted, still completely serious. Then, lightning fast, he whipped his fist back and slammed it into the boy's nose. Just as quickly, his hands were back in his pockets.

"What the _hell?"_ the boy howled, covering his face with his hands. James gave him an innocently horrified look.

"I did it again," he said, despair tinging his tone. "Dad keeps telling me I need to learn to control my magic, but it's just so difficult!"

While the boy's face was covered, James's leg shot out and caught him behind the knee, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Oh, shoot! I'm really sorry, mate! I just can't figure out how to rein myself in, you know?"

The older boy gave him a murderous look and struggled back to his feet.

"That wasn't funny," he snarled, grabbing James roughly by his shirt front. James looked him in the eye very calmly for one so close to receiving a beating.

"It was an accident," he said solemnly. "I'm trying really hard not to let my magic set your hair on fire right now," he added.

The Slytherin gave him a calculating look. He set him back down on the ground, eyeing him somewhat warily.

"Watch yourself, kid," he said at long last. He turned to leave, and James let a grin crack his calm exterior. Then the boy whirled back around and landed his fist into James's boy's gut. He doubled over in pain, struggling to breathe.

"I'm letting you off easy this time," he snarled. With one last well-aimed kick to the ribs, the Slytherin left, shoving the boy with the glass bottle into a wall as he passed.

-o-

"Are you okay?"

James looked up to see two curious bluish eyes staring down at him. He struggled into a sitting position and shook his head to clear it.

"Yeah," he said at long last. "I'm alright." He winced as he tried to take a deep breath - those ribs would be sore for awhile - but otherwise found himself unharmed.

"That was pretty brave, going after a third year like that," the other boy added, offering James his hand to help him up.

"Yeah, well you did it first," James replied, standing and leaning against the wall.

"But you didn't have to. You don't even know me."

James looked at the other boy, finally getting a good look at him. He was just slightly shorter than James was. He had dark hair that was sticking up in strange places due to his scuffle with the Slytherin and the air of one who was very well-off. James took an instant liking to him.

"Well, your Quidditch in a bottle was too cool to let him have it," he answered, stepping into his compartment. The other boy followed and scooped up the glass bottle eagerly.

"You saved it! Wow, thanks! My dad would have been _so_ mad if I'd lost it." He glanced at James and the around the compartment furtively. "I wasn't supposed to bring it to school," he said softly. James grinned.

"Yeah..." he said with a shifty smile. "I wasn't supposed to bring this either." He pulled something out of his pocket and laid it in his palm.

"A broom replica?" the other boy asked, looking confused. James shook his head and pulled his wand out.

"No," he answered. He touched the tip of his wand to the broom. "Reducio," he whispered. The broom grew until it reached its normal size.

"Is that the Bliksem 360?" the boy asked in awe. James grinned.

"Sure is. But don't tell my dad I brought to school. He'd be pretty mad," he said. He murmured the shrinking charm again - something he had worked tirelessly on over the summer just for this purpose - and stuck the broom back in his pocket.

"I'm Brax by the way. Braxton Orwell."

"James Potter," James replied. Brax's eyebrows went up curiously, but he didn't comment.

"You play Quidditch then?" he asked instead. James grinned.

"I love Quidditch! I want to be Seeker for Gryffindor - just like my dad," he answered proudly.

"Gryffindor? Maybe we can be on the team together then," Brax said with a smile. "Cuz if I don't get put in Gryffindor, I think I'll just leave," he added.

"Oh, I know right? Gryffindor or bust, that's what I say!" James exclaimed, raising his fist in the air. The two boys laughed.

The future Gryffindors spent the remainder of the train ride talking about Quidditch and getting to know each other. It wasn't quite what James had imagined, but it was still pretty good as far as train rides went.

And so James Potter and Brax Orwell became best friends.

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A/N: In case you're wondering, yes I named him after George Orwell on purpose. Mostly because his last name fits really well with Brax...and because I'm quite fond of his writing. :)


	3. Sensitive

Sensitive

It was cold, brisk winter day as a man and his two sons walked through the snow that covered the ground of Diagon Alley. They were hurrying toward the Leaky Cauldron, eager to get out of the cold after an agonizing two hours of attempting to shop for Christmas presents for the boys' mother and sister, when a voice called out in surprise.

"Harry Potter?"

Albus's father stopped suddenly, his hand landing Albus's shoulder and causing him to come to a halt as well. James kept walking for a few feet before realizing his father and brother weren't with him.

"I can't believe I'm running into you!" a man Albus had never seen before exclaimed, shaking Harry's hand vigorously. Harry gave him a polite smile that indicated he had never before met this man either.

The man suddenly took noticed of Albus and James standing there.

"Oh, are these your children?" he asked, turning and bending over slightly to peer into Albus's face. Albus stepped back warily, and his father squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Yes," Harry said, and Albus could hear the undercurrent of impatience in his voice. "This is Albus, and that's James."

"You look just like your dad, you do," the man said to Albus with a grin, as though he hadn't already known that. He just stared.

The man's grin faltered slightly, but he continued talking as though Albus's silence were an invitation to do so. "You must be getting close to Hogwarts age, eh?"

"I'm a third year," he replied coldly. The man looked mildly surprised for a moment, but got over it quickly.

"Ah, third year! A great time, in my opinion. I bet you're getting into all sorts of mischief in Hogsmeade. I know how those Gryffindors are," he chuckled.

"I'm in Slytherin," Albus said, glowering at the man.

"Oh! Well, that's a good house too," the man said, looking thoroughly embarrassed. He turned and suddenly took notice of James standing there blowing into his hands to keep them warm.

"I'll bet _you're _a Gryffindor though," he said with a wink. James smiled uncertainly.

"Yeah."

"On the Quidditch team?"

James shifted his weight. "Uh-huh. I'm Seeker."

"Seeker! Like your dad. Ah, doesn't get much better than that, does it?"

"I guess not. I really like it anyway."

"Ever wish you were more like your big brother?" the man asked, nudging Albus slightly with an indulgent grin on his face. Albus bristled angrily.

"No," he spat. He resisted the urge to tell the man he was the best Chaser Slytherin had seen in decades and was favored to be Captain as soon as _next year_.

"Sir, it's been lovely chatting, but we really must be going," Harry said, quickly intervening before the scene became uglier than it had already gotten.

"Of course!" the man said, unperturbed. "The great Harry Potter must be a very busy man."

"Yes. Let's go, boys," Harry said, grabbing Albus's elbow and steering him down the street. He glanced back to see the man watching them go with a look of awe on his face.

"Who was that?" James asked.

"No idea," Harry answered.

Albus was still seething as they entered the Leaky Cauldron. He was used to people telling him how much he looked like his father, used to people comparing him and James, even used to them asking if were a Seeker like his father, but he _hated _it when they commented on his being in Slytherin. The man had only made himself more detestable by suggesting Albus would ever in any way want to be nothing more than a carbon copy of his older brother.

"Al, calm down," Harry said, still holding tight to his elbow.

"Dad, that man-"

"I know. He was an idiot. Sometimes all you can do is look past the stupid things people say and move on."

Albus gritted his teeth angrily, but allowed the subject to drop as James led the way to the fireplace so they could Floo home.

"Albus!" He looked up at the sound of his mother's voice and smiled when she wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back tightly, allowing the embrace to last longer than normal.

He'd never admit it, but he really missed his mum sometimes.

"How was shopping?" she asked as he and James began peeling off layers of scarves, cloaks and sweaters.

"Don't ask," Harry warned as Albus's face soured. Ginny Potter looked at her younger son in concern.

"Did something happen?"

"Just some idiot who insulted Al," James said nonchalantly.

"What?"

"He didn't mean to," Harry explained. "This man unintentionally said some things that Al took a bit of offense to-"

"He insinuated that I should be more like James."

"Oh, dear," Ginny said. Albus shrugged stiffly.

"It's fine," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "Why wouldn't I want to be a perfect little Gryffindor?"

"Hey," James said, sounding wounded.

"Oh don't start this again," Harry said in exasperation. "We are going to put this all behind us, alright? Albus, why don't you take these-" he shoved the shopping bags into Albus's arms "and go wrap them for me?"

"Why do I have to-?"

"Because I said so. Now, go."

Albus sighed in annoyance as he left the kitchen. James looked back and forth between his parents for a moment before following him.

"Was it really that bad?" Ginny asked softly.

"You know how sensitive he is," Harry reminded her. "He hates being compared to James at the best of times, and the man made it even worse by assuming he was in Gryffindor and then asking him if he ever wanted to be more like his brother."

"Yeah, I can see how that might upset him."

"I'm fine," Albus's angry voice came floating into the kitchen from the sitting room. "And I am not _sensitive."_


	4. Archer

Diclaimer: I do not own any of the Potters or Scorpius Malfoy. I own nothing else you recognize as belonging to the Harry Potter franchise and I am not making money off this story. However, any characters whose names you do not recognize as belonging to the Harry Potter universe were made up by me. So that kind of gives me rights to them, right? Sort of? Yeah, I guess not.

A/N: So I was planning on saving this chapter for later because several characters are mentioned who haven't been introduced yet, but I've worked so hard on it and it's 2:30 am and I really just want to post it. Just know that any confusion caused by any characters I mention will be cleared up in later chapters. Again, these don't go in chronological order. Last chapter was from Christmas break of Albus's third year, and this is just a few months before that at the start of term. Sorry if that's confusing, but I try to make it clear at the beginning of each chapter what year it is. These scenes come to me in no particular order; I just write them down as I think them up.

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Archer

Lily was so excited she could barely contain herself. She'd bounced around the house all morning, knocking things off her brothers' beds as they tried to pack, spilling James's shoebox chocolate card collection, scaring Albus's owl half to death and generally making it difficult for anyone to walk through the sitting room without being accosted.

The date was September first, which for the past two years had been a date of dread for the youngest Potter child, as it meant the departure of both of her brothers, leaving her no one to play with or entertain her for nine and a half months.

But this September first was the day she, Lily Luna Potter was going to Hogwarts herself. She was _so_ excited.

"Lily, knock it off!" Albus yelled angrily as she accidentally toppled a pile of his books, too busy thinking about all the friends she would make at Hogwarts.

"Sorry, Al!" she chirped, skipping away.

He glowered after her as he straightened his books.

-o-

"Bye, Mum, bye, Dad!" Lily exclaimed, hugging each of them exuberantly. Her parents chuckled as they hugged her in return.

"Have fun, sweetheart," Ginny said, kissing the top of her head.

"Don't forget to write," Harry added as she hugged him again.

"I won't! See you at Christmas!" Lily hopped up into the train eagerly, a huge grin on her face, no trace of uncertainty or nervousness present in her delighted expression.

Albus shook his head at her, half amused, half annoyed. He hugged each of his parents briefly, allowed his mother to kiss him and his father to squeeze his shoulder, then climbed aboard the train as well. Lily looked up at him adoringly.

"We're going to Hogwarts, Al!" she cried, grabbing his hand. He couldn't help but smile at her.

"We sure are," he agreed.

The two of them waved to their parents until the train rounded the bend and the platform disappeared from sight.

It was only as the corridor started emptying that Lily suddenly looked worried.

"Al?" she asked softly, still holding his hand. "Can I sit with you?"

"Only if you stop holding onto my hand," he said half-jokingly. She dropped his hand instantly, and he had to laugh.

"C'mon," he said, motioning for her to follow.

He led her down the train to a compartment where five people already sat. Lily recognized Scorpius Malfoy and Rice Parker, Albus's best mates who had visited for a week over the summer, but the other three were strangers to her. She shrank back a bit as Albus entered, suddenly intimidated.

"Hey, guys. This is my sister," Albus introduced, sitting down beside Scorpius.

"Lily, you know Scorpius and Rice. This is..." he broke off, suddenly noticing she was not beside him, but still standing uncertainly in the doorway.

"Well don't be a pansy, get over here," he scolded, and two of the boys Lily didn't recognize chuckled, causing her face to flush red. She slinked into the compartment and took a seat on the far side of Albus, in the corner.

"Anyway," he continued, clearly annoyed at her sudden shy behavior, "this is Breighton Amdahl." A boy with impeccably neat dark brown hair smiled at her politely before going back to reading his newspaper. He was sitting very straight and was already wearing his Hogwarts robes, which were perfectly clean and free of wrinkles or lint. Lily wondered if they were enchanted to look that way or if the boy was just a neat freak. She was just coming to the conclusion that it was probably both when she realized Albus was continuing his introductions.

"That's Darius Creighton." The boy directly opposite Lily gave her a soft smile. She smiled timidly back, comforted by his kind gray-green eyes. His hair was lighter than Breighton Amdahl's, and much less carefully combed.

"And I'm Charlier Grey," the fifth boy introduced himself, extending his hand and shaking Lily's, who could only stare. "also third year," he added, giving her a dashing smile. Albus rolled his eyes and Rice coughed to hide a snigger.

"Yes, yes, you're wonderful," Albus said scathingly. Charlier Grey seemed completely unperturbed by his fellow Slytherin's surliness, winking at Lily and causing her to blush deeply. Albus scowled.

"Lay off, will you? She's eleven," he said darkly. Charlier shrugged, an amused smile on his face. Lily was impressed at his nonchalance in the face of her brother. She had seen strangers wilt before Albus's temper.

Lily sat back and simply observed her brother and his friends as the train sped toward Hogwarts. At home, Albus talked very little of his acquaintances at Hogwarts - in fact, he talked very little about what he did at Hogwarts at all - and despite Lily's constant pestering, she knew next to nothing about his friends. Even Scorpius and Rice, who had stayed with them briefly over the holidays, were mysteries to her. She was never invited to hang out with them.

She was definitely going to take advantage of this rare opportunity to spend time with her brother's friends.

-o-

After an hour, Lily was bored out of her skull.

They were such typical _boys_, talking about Quidditch and playing Exploding Snap. She had stopped listening ten minutes ago and taken to looking out the window at the passing countryside.

"I don't know why he hates me," Albus said, causing Lily's attention to snap back to what was happening in the compartment. She continued to stare out the window, but she no longer saw the fields of cows and sheep as she was listening very intently to what her brother was saying.

"He's just a git," Rice answered with a shrug. "There's no other reason for it."

"There must be a reason," Scorpius said very, well, _reasonably_. "He hasn't spent the last two years torturing you because he doesn't fancy the color of your eyes."

Darius and Charlier chuckled at that and Rice snorted, and Lily thought she noticed Scorpius's mouth twitch upward slightly as though pleased his humor was appreciated. Albus however, continued to frown.

"He asked me once if James was my brother - as though he didn't already know the answer - but you would think if he had a problem with James, he'd bother James, not me. They're in the same year after all," he mused.

"Maybe he's scared of James," Charlier suggested. "Half the school is, you know."

Albus scowled as though he did not appreciate the reminder. Lily watched his face curiously. She knew Albus _hated_ being compared to James, and she supposed he had good reason to, but she had never thought about how the two might interact at school, being in rival houses and all. They got along fine - well, as fine as brothers do, she guessed - at home.

"I wouldn't say they're afraid of him," Darius commented lightly. "They wouldn't cross him, but I don't know if they're afraid of him."

"Same thing," Charlier said dismissively.

"No, it's not," Darius argued. "I wouldn't throw a hex at Albus, but I'm not _afraid _of him. I respect him, and I know he could beat me in a duel without batting an eye, but I'm not afraid of him. It's the same way people feel about James."

"Yeah, but if there's anyone half the school is afraid of, it's Albus," Rice added with a wicked grin. Lily repressed a shudder. She didn't like all this talk of people being afraid of her brothers.

"No one's afraid of me," Albus said, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever you say, Potter," Breighton said from behind his newspaper, his lips forming a slight smile.

"The point is," Albus pressed on, clearly tiring of the matter, "things need to change this year. I'm sick of putting up with Leevy's crap."

"You did beat him out for Chaser last year," Rice reminded him.

"But he was bothering me before then. Making Chaser just gave him another reason to hate me. I want to know what I did in the first place to make him hate me," Albus explained.

"You could just ask him?" Charlier suggested. Albus's eyebrows drew together as though he hadn't thought of that. Lily thought it was outrageously obvious.

"You're a Potter in Slytherin," Scorpius suggested. "That could have a lot to do with it."

"Lily," Albus said suddenly, as though just realizing she was sitting there listening to their discussion, "Go find the sweets trolley."

"What?" Lily asked, confused and a little offended. "Why should I?"

"Because you're hungry," he said. Lily glared at him. Albus couldn't tell her when she was or wasn't hungry.

"I am not," she retorted. Just then, her stomach chose to betray her by grumbling loudly. Albus's friends all laughed and Lily's face burned in anger and embarrassment.

"Sure about that?" Albus asked with a smirk. Lily grabbed her bag and marched out of the compartment angrily, slamming the door behind her. The third years' laughter echoed in her ears halfway down the corridor. She hated being made a fool of.

Lily wandered the train hopelessly for awhile. She didn't actually care if she found the sweets trolley or not, but she was still too angry to return to her brother and his friends. Stupid Slytherins. At least now she understood why James disliked them all so much. They were _mean_.

She muttered under her breath angrily, calling them every dirty word she could think of - her mother would have washed her mouth out with soap if she'd heard her - and was very much caught up in abusing the third year Slytherin boys when she slammed right into something quite solid and fell to the ground. An _'oof!'_ from somewhere in front of her told her that what she'd run into was another person.

"Sorry!" Lily exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. She looked down at the person she'd run into; it was a boy, and he had also fallen to the floor. Lily offered the boy her hand.

"No problem," he said easily, taking her hand and hauling himself to his feet. He was quite a bit taller than she was, had sandy-colored hair and very dark brown eyes, and he held onto her hand a second too long once he'd regained his balance. She felt her face go red again.

"I'm Archer," he said, dropping her hand. She smiled uncertainly.

"Lily." They stood there in an awkward sort of silence for a moment, not knowing what else to say. "I-I have to go," she said quickly, turning and walking away. Her heart was pounding and her face was flaming and she had no idea why.

* * *

A/N: I _know_ you're reading this, so please review! Also, I will have chapters out for each of the Slytherins mentioned at some point. Scorpius and Rice will be first because they're Albus's best friends. Rice is a character of my own invention and I seriously considered throwing him out while writing this, but in the end I decided he adds a nice balance to Scorpius and Albus's friendship, which you'll see in a later chapter, and I just like him too much. We will also find out more about this "Leevy" character later and why he is the bane of Albus's existence.

One last note: You may have noticed the similarities between 'Breighton' Amdahl and Darius 'Creighton'. While the spelling is similar, the pronunciations (in my head at least) are not. 'Breighton' is pronounced "_brite_-uhn" and 'Creighton' is pronounced "_crate_-uhn" - hopefully that's not too confusing.

That's all for now. Hope you enjoyed. Please review. :)  
-Megan


	5. Muggleborn

A/N: Well thank you to my one and only reviewer, **Silver Tears 11**. C'mon, I _know_ there are more of you reading this.

* * *

Muggleborn

Rice Parker was quite possibly the first Muggleborn (or at least the first to admit to being one) ever sorted into Slytherin. Of course, he didn't know this as he sat down opposite a pale blonde boy at the Slytherin table.

The boy didn't look at him; he was staring intently in the other direction, watching the Sorting. Rice realized their table was clapping again; a girl with long blonde hair was sitting down at the far end, looking perfectly delighted to be there.

"Potter, Albus."

Whispers shot across the Great Hall as a skinny boy with messy black hair made his way up to the stool shakily.

"Harry Potter's son, that's right..."

"James Potter's little brother..."

"Shoo-in Gryffindor."

"Bet he's just as obnoxious as the other one."

Rice listened curiously to the people around him. From the Slytherin table were mostly negative remarks, hinting at this Albus Potter's being obnoxious, conceited and big-headed like his brother James, who was apparently a Gryffindor, or to his being an attention-seeking busybody like his father. To Rice, who had never heard of Harry Potter, it might as well have all been Greek.

Albus Potter sat up there a long time. Nearly two full minutes had already passed, which was a lot longer than it had been for Rice. The Hat had only talked to him for about ten seconds before sending him to Slytherin.

The tear near the brim of the Hat opened, and a hush fell over the Great Hall in anticipation. Rice craned his neck to see half of Gryffindor already halfway to their feet.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The silence was so profound that Rice swore he could hear his own heartbeat.

Albus Potter stood, a hard look in his eyes. He handed the Hat back to Professor Wickham and marched toward the Slytherin table, his head held high. He was halfway there before someone a ways down the table lifted his hands and began to clap hesitantly.

The smattering of applause died out quickly as Wickham straightened out his scroll again and cleared his throat.

"Rames, Haylee." The Sorting continued.

People stared at Albus Potter where he sat next to the pale blonde boy across from Rice. Albus ignored them all, focused entirely on the Sorting, but Rice could see the hard set of his jaw and could just tell the boy was angry. But was he angry for being put in Slytherin or because of the whispers and stares he was receiving?

As the end of the Sorting neared, Rice began to lose interest. He was hungry and tired of watching other kids sit on the stool with a big hat on their heads. His stomach growled. How much _longer?_

There were four left, including the girl currently sitting on the stool. She went to Hufflepuff. "Watershed, Sienna" joined the Slytherins.

"Weasley, Rose" was a girl with a lot of curly red hair who looked very excited as she clamored up to sit on the stool. She had a huge grin on her face as Wickham lowered the Hat on her head. It barely touched her.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Albus Potter clapped quietly, smiling for her.

"Zeke, Jessamine" was the last, also going to Slytherin. Rice heaved a sigh of relief. They had to be eating soon, right?

A severe-looking woman stood up from the center chair at the teachers' table, and the Great Hall fell silent again.

"Welcome," she said, the slightest of smiles turning up the corners of her mouth. "I won't keep you very long because I know you are all eager to get to your feast. I would just like to remind you all to please remain seated at the end of the feast for a few announcements. Now, let a new year begin," she said, spreading her hands. Rice's eyes nearly popped out of his head when piles and piles of food appeared on the table in front of him.

He no longer wondered why the Potter boy was attracting so much attention. He no longer cared that the blonde boy across the table from him was acting as though the entire table were invisible, speaking to no one. He no longer noticed anything but the heaping platters of food.

Ten minutes passed before he even paused to take a deep breath.

"This is amazing," he said in awe. Both Albus Potter and the blonde boy glanced at him to see if he was talking to them. Neither replied to his statement.

"I don't remember the last time I had so much food," he continued. "It's so _good_." He paused to stuff his face for another couple minutes before swallowing and saying, "I still can't believe this is all real." He stared upward at the enchanted ceiling and floating candles and shook his head.

When he looked back down, both Albus and the blonde boy were staring at him oddly. He felt the need to explain.

"My parents aren't magical. Neither of them. When the man from the Ministry of Magic came to talk to us about my letter, my mum fainted and my dad nearly punched him," he said, chuckling at the memory. "My older brother is so jealous," he added with a grin.

"You're Muggle-born?" the blonde boy asked at last, looking so baffled that Rice actually lowered his fork. He nodded uncertainly.

"Beat me with a broomstick," the boy muttered, more to himself than anything. Then he gave a short, humorless laugh. "My dad will laugh himself silly."

Rice didn't know whether or not to feel insulted. He looked at Albus's face to see if the other boy's expression held any indication, but he was simply looking thoughtfully at one of the hangings on the wall depicting the Slytherin serpent. After a moment he met Rice's gaze again, shrugged, and went back to his food. Rice decided it would be wisest to do the same.

From down the table where a few older students sat, bits of conversations were drifting toward the three boys.

"Can't believe Potter's in Slytherin."

"His father will probably disown him."

"His entire family is going to disown him. They've _all_ been in Gryffindor."

"I thought that one Weasley was a Ravenclaw. Diane or whatever her name is."

"Dominique? Yeah I guess she is. But she's not much of a Weasley anyway. She has blonde hair."

One of them snorted.

Rice watched Albus curiously to see his reaction to all this; he didn't really know who the Weasleys were or why it was such a big deal that Albus Potter was a Slytherin, but he could tell the talk was bothering the black-haired boy. His grip on his fork was very tight and he had an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"Poor Potter. Disinherited at age eleven."

"I bet his father won't even let him in the house after this."

"Forget what his family thinks, what about _us?_ We have to deal with a Potter now. One was bad enough, but now there's two, and one of them has to live in our dormitory, share our common room, eat at the same table as us."

Rice was sure Albus was about to whip out his wand and hex them all to kingdom come. His jaw had that angry set to it again. Even Scorpius, whose face had been impassive up till now, started to look a bit wary when he glanced at the other boy's face.

"It's a disgrace."

"It's disgusting."

"It's just annoying."

Rice shot a look down at the older students. There were five of them, fourth or fifth years by the looks of them, and they all had looks of contempt on their faces. One of them curled his lip as he waved his fork around as though to illustrate his point.

"It gives a bad name to Slytherins. I mean I don't mind the half-bloods, and I can even deal with a couple Muggleborns, but a Potter? It's just not right."

"Do you think we can give him back?" They all sniggered.

"Maybe if we pay McGonagall enough..."

"Shut up." The words were out of Rice's mouth before he was fully aware of saying them. As soon as he'd said the , he wished he could take them back. The five older kids turned to look at him incredulously.

"What did you just say?" one asked, looking too shocked to be angry.

Rice's heart sped, and he swallowed hard. He glanced at Albus, who was watching him with interest, then looked back at the others. "I said," he started, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat slightly, then tried again. "I said, shut up."

They all burst out laughing. Rice felt his face heat up, but continued to glare at them. One them calmed down enough to ask, "What're you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing," Rice muttered. "It just isn't nice."

They were positively howling now. "Oh, did you hear that, Gage? It isn't _nice_."

"Do me a favor kid," another one said, chuckling slightly. Then very suddenly his face was deathly serious. "_Mind your own damn business." _The snarl held a very obvious threat. Rice stared at him with wide eyes.

A second later they were all laughing hysterically again and had turned back to their suppers.

"That was really stupid."

Rice turned to see Albus Potter staring at him. He noticed for the first time that the other boy had very green eyes. However, those green eyes were currently glaring at him. He squirmed uncomfortably.

"Why was it stupid?" Rice asked, feeling rather stupid as he did so.

"Because those blokes are twice your size, and there are five of them."

"And they're about half as intelligent," Rice retorted, though he kept his voice down just in case they were still listening.

Albus stared at him a long moment before a smile flickered across his face.

"I'm Albus," he said at long last, holding his hand across the table. Rice shook it, very confused at all that had just happened, but feeling it was turning out all right.

"Rice Parker," he replied with a smile.

"So you're Muggleborn, huh?" Albus asked curiously. His previously dour expression was suddenly full of light, making him look much more approachable.

-o-

As the students of Hogwarts were growing sleepy and sluggish from the vast amounts of food they'd just consumed, the headmistress - Rice had learned from Albus that her name was Professor McGonagall - stood again, and the murmurs of conversation died away.

"A few reminders before you all head off to your dormitories. Your caretaker Mr. Almaeus would like me to remind you all that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products are not permitted in the halls or common areas at any time. Also, the forest is forbidden to all students, and swimming the lake, while not prohibited, is not recommended except in the shallowest of areas. A reminder that first years are not allowed their own brooms and if one is found, the broomstick in question will be confiscated until the end of term.

"My brother tried to smuggle his broom in last year," Albus commented softly, rolling his eyes. "My dad was _so_ mad when he got the letter from McGonagall. He wouldn't let James play all of Christmas break."

Rice wondered what he'd been forbidden from playing, but the headmistress was still speaking.

"Lastly, only students in third year and above are permitted to leave school grounds for Hogsmeade trips. Some of our younger students would do well to remember that," McGonagall said, her gaze fixed on a point halfway up the Gryffindor table. Rice followed her line of sight and saw four very smug-looking boys smirking at one another.

"He also tried to sneak into Hogsmeade. Twice," Albus whispered. "He's kind of an idiot," he added, laughing slightly.

Rice had no idea what Hogsmeade was.

"First years, your prefects will lead you to your dormitories. Schedules will be handed out Monday morning at breakfast. Enjoy your weekend and try not to get into too much mischief," she finished, a strange smile on her face.

"Just our luck, September first being on a Friday," Rice overheard a Ravenclaw complain. "I want to start classes right away."

Rice, however, was quite looking forward to having the next two days to explore the towering castle. He wondered if he could convince any of his new dorm-mates to go with him. Maybe Albus would.

* * *

A/N: I looked it up: September 1, 2017 is indeed a a Friday. So, I hope you're starting to like Rice as much as I do. He's quite an enjoyable character. I'll probably spring for Scorpius next, then we might visit James and his friends again. The next few chapters will probably all be from James and Albus's early years at Hogwarts because my head is currently full of scenes from that time. Please review. Thank you for reading.  
-Megan


	6. Frustrating

Frustrating

Rice Parker seemed to have made it his personal mission to befriend Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius Malfoy was not amused.

Despite the impression he supposed he'd made at the feast, he didn't have a problem with Muggleborns. His father had raised him better than that. However, he also knew that most Slytherins were what had once been called "pure-blood," though the term was mostly obsolete now. And so, he knew his father would get a kick out of hearing that the first boy Scorpius had ever spoken to in Slytherin was a Muggleborn.

It wasn't Rice's blood that Scorpius minded. It was the boy's insatiable curiosity. He supposed it wasn't his fault; he was raised a Muggle after all, so he didn't have a lot of magical knowledge. But his incessant questions and awe at everything he saw around him was about to drive Scorpius off a cliff.

"Wait, so the portraits _move?_ Like, the people in them can move around and stuff?" he'd asked yesterday, staring up at a portrait in the common room open-mouthed.

"How do they do that?" he'd asked, looking over at Scorpius. He had literally stared at the Muggleborn boy for almost a minute, shocked at his naiveté.

"It's magic," he'd managed at last, feeling stupid for even having to say it.

Rice's face had flushed instantly. "Right." And he'd walked away very fast.

Today wasn't going much better.

"Wait," Rice said, grabbing his arm. Scorpius took a deep breath, steeling himself for another stupid question. "So this game, Quidditch, you play it on _brooms?_ Flying brooms? Like, in the air?"

"Yes," he answered, walking forward again. Rice stood there and stared into space for a moment before realizing he'd been left behind. He ran to catch up.

"Flying broomsticks? What makes them fly? How can they hold a person up?" he demanded. Scorpius gave him what he had now dubbed the 'Are you stupid?' look.

"Magic," Scorpius answered, for the thousandth time. Honestly, what other answer did the boy expect?

"But how-?"

"Look here," Scorpius interrupted, annoyed. "We are wizards, right? We have magic wands. We perform spells and charms and hexes and enchantments. We are _magical_. The whole world around us is _magical_. Quit asking me how things work. It's all the same: magic."

Rice's expression did not crumple as Scorpius had expected it to. Instead, he just stood there thoughtfully. After a long pause he looked back at Scorpius.

"I just can't believe it's real," he said. _Sixteen_, Scorpius checked off another imaginary tally mark in his head. Sixteen was the number of times Rice had said that same sentence since breakfast.

"Where's Albus?" he asked grumpily, hoping to pawn the overly curious Muggleborn off. Rice shrugged.

"Said something about visiting...Harvard? Hamgrid? I dunno. Whatever that means."

"Hagrid," Scorpius corrected. "He's the gamekeeper."

"Is he the giant man that brought us across the lake?" Rice asked, his face registering in awe.

Scorpius was glad he remembered _something _at least. "Yes," he answered shortly.

"Can we go visit him too?"

"You can," Scorpius said, hoping the boy would take the hint.

"Oh, you don't want to come?"

"Uh, no. I'm not...feeling well," Scorpius decided, bringing a hand to his stomach and attempting to look woozy. "I think I might go lay down for a bit. You should go find Albus."

Rice looked instantly concerned. "Are you alright?" Then his face brightened eagerly. "Do you have some magical illness?"

"No," Scorpius snapped. "Not every stomach ache is magic-related."

And with that he turned and walked away, not even bothering to hold his stomach anymore. Rice wouldn't notice anyway.

-o-

Scorpius relished in the empty dormitory as he lay on his bed staring up at the dark green, silver-embroidered hangings.

Hogwarts numbers had soared some five years ago or so, and as such Scorpius found himself sharing his dormitory with ten other boys. The room's size was not a problem - it was long and quite spacious (he couldn't imagine living in one of the circular tower dormitories like Gryffindor or Ravenclaw; he had no idea how they'd make those roomy enough). However, it got quite noisy at times, and it was nice to lay there in complete and utter silence for once.

Scorpius was very much looking forward to the start of classes the next day. He hoped they would have Defense Against the Dark Arts first, even though he was slightly afraid of Professor Wickham. He was said to be the toughest teacher in Hogwarts. However, Scorpius had heard from several older Slytherins that as Wickham was head of their house, they had much better chances of getting on his good side. He hoped they were right.

Hogwarts had changed a lot from the time his father had been there. For one thing, almost all of the professors who had once taught there had been replaced. From what Scorpius could observe, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were the only ones left over from the "old days." He supposed Hagrid was still there as well, though it was strange to think of him teaching anything.

-o-

"Scorpius!"

Scorpius bit back a groan. He forced a smile onto his face as Rice came running up to him, Albus trailing behind. He should have known it wouldn't be safe to leave the common room, but he'd been so bored and had wanted to search out a few of classrooms before the next morning.

"Hey, Rice," he greeted as the brown-haired boy skidded to halt beside him. He had a huge grin on his face.

"Scorpius, guess what?"

"What?" he sighed. Over Rice's head, he glanced at Albus, who had caught up and was watching with obvious amusement in his face.

"I saw something weird sticking up out of the lake, so Albus and I went to see what it was and it was a _tentacle!_ There's a giant squid in the lake!" Rice exclaimed, practically hopping in his excitement. Scorpius wasn't sure why this was so interesting.

"Well everyone knows that," he scoffed, barely able to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"I didn't. It's so cool!" Rice said, not at all put off by Scorpius's less than enthusiastic welcome.

"You know where I think you need to visit, Rice?" Scorpius asked, slinging an arm around the boy's shoulders and steering him in the direction of the marble staircase. Rice looked up at him expectantly.

"I think you need to visit the library. There are these things called books, see, and they can tell you _anything_ you need to know about magic, Hogwarts, giant squids, moving portraits, Quidditch, and anything else you don't know about. Why don't we go there?"

"The library? Why didn't I think of that?" Rice said happily, allowing Scorpius to lead him up staircases.

Scorpius honestly wasn't sure where the library was. He thought it was either on the fourth or fifth floor, and he had passed it once on one of his explorations of the castle, but he didn't remember its exact location.

"Did that suit of armor just move?" Rice asked hopefully, craning his head around as they passed the suit of armor in question. Scorpius glanced at it; it probably had, but he didn't really care.

"It's faster this way," Albus suddenly spoke up. Scorpius had forgotten he was even with them. He looked back to see the boy had paused beside the base of a staircase that had been hidden by a thick tapestry.

"Whoa, secret passageway!" Rice said excitedly, breaking away from Scorpius and hurrying back to Albus. Scorpius shrugged and followed.

Albus was right; the passageway let out almost directly across from the library. How he'd known that was beyond Scorpius, who had been exploring the castle for nearly two full days and still hadn't discovered more than two secret passageways. Maybe Albus's brother had told him.

The boys went into the library to have a look around. Albus pulled them both behind a bookshelf quickly as soon as the librarian looked up.

"My brother says she's crazy," he whispered. As though to demonstrate this, the sound of rapid footsteps came toward them, and a moment later a vulture-like woman rounded the end of the bookshelf.

"What are you three up to?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just here to look around," Rice replied good-naturedly, giving her a bright smile. She glared at him. "I've never seen a library so huge before!"

"Well don't make a racket and don't make a mess. I shall know if you do," she threatened. She very reluctantly left them, eyeing them distrustfully all the way back to her desk.

Scorpius had to agree with Rice. The library was enormous. Bookshelves towered above them in all directions, and off to the left was a winding staircase that led to an upper level balcony containing even _more_ books and several study desks that were unoccupied.

The boys moved around, not touching anything, simply looking about them in awe. As they reached the south wall, sunlight streamed in through large windows overlooking the lake below.

Tables and chairs were scattered all over in little clumps, along with comfortable-looking armchairs. At the moment, all the chairs and tables were completely abandoned, as no one had any reason to be in the library before classes had even started, except perhaps a few over-achieving Ravenclaws.

Scorpius browsed some of the books curiously. The Malfoys had a rather large library of course - and his grandparents had an even bigger one - but he had never seen so many books in one place in his life. He realized he was in the Quidditch section after a cursory glance at some of the titles.

"Here, Rice," he called, pulling three books off the shelf: _Quidditch Through the Ages, 3rd Edition; Modern Quidditch; _and _So You Want to Play Quidditch. _He handed them to Rice, who took them all eagerly.

"And here," Albus added, appearing from around another shelf. He handed Rice two more books.

"A Modern History of Hogwarts," Rice read, taking the first one. It was enormous. The second book was entitled _Magic: A Muggle's Perspective._

Rice immediately sat down in the nearest armchair and began reading. Scorpius looked at Albus, wondering what they should do.

Albus shrugged and wandered off between the shelves, still looking around. Scorpius, left with little else to do, followed.

Scorpius would not call Albus and Rice his friends. In fact, if not for Rice, Scorpius doubted he'd have even had a conversation with Albus Potter yet. As it was, the two of them still hadn't spoken more than ten words to each other at any given moment. Scorpius wondered if Albus found Rice as annoying as he did, but thought it would be rude to ask.

"He's like a child," Albus's voice suddenly spoke up from ahead of him. He was leaning on a windowsill, looking out over the lake. He looked up at Scorpius as he approached.

"Rice?" Scorpius asked, just to be sure they were on the same page. Albus nodded.

"He's worse than a child," Scorpius said, keeping his voice low. "At least they take it all for granted. I never questioned why portraits move or how broomsticks fly. I just knew they _did_. In fact, I didn't even know Muggles thought that was weird until I was six or seven."

"Exactly. He's just so..." Albus trailed off, looking for the right adjective.

"Frustrating?" Scorpius suggested.

"Yeah... I mean, I like him well enough. He's nice and all. I just wish he didn't ask so many questions."

Scorpius agreed. He appreciated Rice's persistence in trying to make friends and even agreed with his desire to explore the castle. If he didn't ask so many questions, Scorpius would like him a lot more.

"Maybe the books will help," Scorpius said hopefully.

-o-

The books, if anything, made things worse. Rice went from asking endless questions to spouting off endless bits of useless knowledge that Scorpius and Albus had known for years.

"Did you know that in the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, Bulgaria caught the Golden Snitch but Ireland still won? Isn't that _insane_?" he said one day over lunch. Scorpius, who had his nose in his potions book, didn't look up. Albus grunted acknowledgement of this fact but otherwise said nothing.

"And did you know leprechaun gold disappears? At the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, leprechauns showered everyone in gold and everyone was really excited, but then a few hours later it was all gone!" Rice continued, staring down at the fifth book he'd gone through this week concerning Quidditch, entitled _Notable Quidditch World Cups Throughout History_. His obsession was growing irritating.

"Fascinating," Scorpius intoned, just so the boy wouldn't feel ignored. He was just grateful Rice hadn't exclaimed over the existence of leprechauns again. Scorpius had never even given more than a few seconds' thought to leprechauns. Like everything else he'd learned as a child, he'd just accepted them without blinking.

"Ten minutes till Potions," Albus said. "I have to run to the dormitory to grab my book. See you there."

Scorpius gave him a halfhearted wave, wishing he had an excuse to leave the table as well. Instead, he continued to sit there while Rice spouted more random facts.

Scorpius had gotten used to the strange relationship he shared with Albus and Rice over the last few days. Rice continued to be in awe at everything magical, though he learned quickly and asked fewer questions as the days went on. He read an awful lot, though Scorpius dearly wished he'd do so without exclaiming over every new fact he found interesting.

Albus was quiet most of the time, but he had a dry sense of humor that reminded Scorpius of his father, and if nothing else, he really loved Quidditch. He probably knew more useless trivia than Rice did, though he had the good sense to realize no one really wanted to hear about it. He never talked about his family, other than the odd comment about something his brother had said once, which he usually referred to as being stupid or insensible. Scorpius got the distinct feeling the brothers didn't get along too well.

He still wouldn't exactly call them friends, despite Rice's obvious fondness for both him and Albus. He didn't feel any sort of real attachment to either of them and wouldn't have minded one bit if they had both suddenly decided he wasn't worth their time. He was an only child; he was used to being alone.

"C'mon Scorpius, we'll be late," Rice was saying now, closing his book and shoving it into his bag. He carried his bookbag everywhere, always pulling out reading material any time they had a break between classes.

Scorpius stood, closing his Potions textbook as he did so. He followed Rice out of the Great Hall and down the staircase leading to the dungeons. He didn't know what it was about the kid, but he was sure good at making people do what he wanted. Maybe he was just too good-natured for his own good. He'd been dragging Scorpius and Albus around the castle for days, and neither of them had ever thought twice about arguing with his wishes.

-o-

Potions was supposed to be Scorpius's best class. Both of his parents had excelled in the subject and had taken N.E.W.T. level classes. His father often brewed complex (and usually strange-smelling) concoctions at home just because he was bored, and he was always telling Scorpius how much he enjoyed the art of potion-making.

Scorpius hated Potions.

Professor Ivers was nice enough, and she was an excellent teacher and potioneer. She explained everything very well, and Scorpius perfectly understood the process of making the potion she'd just described.

He was just really bad at actually making it.

Frustrated, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and stared at his potion hopelessly. It was supposed to be a light green color, but his was a dark, ugly green and smelled strongly of bad eggs. He had no idea what he'd done wrong.

"Did you stir it clockwise before you added the lacewing flies?" Rice asked, peering into his cauldron with a wrinkled nose. Scorpius was sure he had.

"Did you take it off the flames before adding the crushed beetle eyes?" Rice asked.

Scorpius felt his face flush. He had indeed taken the cauldron off the flames, but the beetle eyes he'd added had not been crushed.

"Oh, my," Professor Ivers said with concern, looking down at Scorpius's potion. "Do you know what went wrong?"

"I forgot to crush my beetle eyes," he mumbled, embarrassed.

Professor Ivers on the other hand, smiled brightly. "Five points to Slytherin for finding your mistake," she said, taking him and half the classroom by surprise. As he stared at her, she turned to the rest of the room.

"Potion-making is an extremely subtle art. I don't expect you all to get it perfect your first go, students. Realizing you've made a mistake and recognizing that mistake is very important in elementary potion-making. Good work, Scorpius."

Scorpius worked hard the rest of class to try to remedy his mistake. By the end of the period, he had a concoction that was almost the correct color, though he hadn't been able to get rid of the smell.

He supposed Potions simply wasn't his gift. On the other hand, he'd just earned five points for Slytherin.

"Scorpius, wait up!"

He sighed inwardly. There was no escaping him.

* * *

A/N: That was way longer than I meant it to be, but I got on a roll and just couldn't stop. So now we've met Scorpius. We're going to take a break from Albus and co. for a few chapters to revisit James and his friends, but don't worry, we'll come back and find out just what happened to change Scorpius's opinion of Rice and Albus.

By the way, Scorpius got it wrong: there are several other teachers and staff memebers left over from the canon Harry Potter era, including Professors Vector, Sinistra and Babbling - teachers of Arithmancy, Astronomy and Study of Ancient Runes, respectively. Also, Trelawney still lurks up in her tower and Firenze continues to teach in his ground floor classroom, sharing the Divination classes between the two of them. Madams Pomfrey and Pince also still inhabit Hogwarts. If you were paying attention last chapter, you noticed I replaced Filch though. He's too awful for me.


	7. Menace

Menace

Minerva McGonagall was not one for birthday parties - at least, not those of one-year-old boys. She supposed however, staring down at the invitation in her hand, that she should make an exception for the son of the man who had once saved all of wizard-kind from destruction. He had been in Gryffindor after all.

-o-

"James Sirius Potter," McGonagall scoffed, more to herself than to Professor Flitwick sitting beside her in the Potters' living room. "Could you imagine a worse name for a child? He'll be a monster. I thought the Weasley twins were bad." She said all of this very softly so no one other than Flitwick was likely to hear her. The Charms teacher chuckled.

"Yes, it shows quite the lack of judgement on the parents' part," he agreed, still smiling in utter amusement. "You'd think they'd have saved at least one of them for the second child," he added.

"Oh Merlin, that would be _just_ what we'd need, Filius. Two troublesome Potters? No, thank you. We'll just let all of the horror be rolled into one boy. Any other children they have can be the good ones," McGonagall said vehemently, shaking her head slightly. Flitwick only laughed again and sincerely hoped none of the other guests were listening.

McGonagall watched as the one-year-old in question suddenly streaked by on his new toy broom - courtesy of Ginny's former teammates from the Holyhead Harpies of course - and crashed head-on into the wall opposite her and Flitwick. She barely concealed a smile as the child toppled to the floor.

James shook his head and glanced around furtively as though to see if his parents had seen - they hadn't - or if anyone else had noticed his mishap, which would warrant causing a fuss and drawing attention himself. His eyes fell on McGonagall, the only one watching, and the corners of his mouth tugged downward. McGonagall frowned fiercely at him, not at all in the mood to hear him start wailing, and the quivering of his lip stopped instantly, his eyes wide.

It wasn't that she disliked children - obviously she didn't, or she wouldn't have become a teacher - but she could plainly see that the boy was unhurt. He seemed to decide he wasn't going to find any sympathy from her, so he picked himself up and managed to wrestle himself back onto his toy. With one last cautious glance in the direction of his future headmistress, he zoomed away again.

"He's going to be a troublemaker," Flitwick sighed. "Best start Potter-proofing the castle now, Minerva."

-o-

"Albus Severus?" McGonagall asked herself, reading the birth announcement in the _Prophet - _though instead of one little blurb on the second-to-last page, Harry Potter's second born of course got a front page, full-length article. 'BOY-WHO-LIVED HAS SECOND CHILD - BABY BOY.' She had no idea there was so much to write about a twelve-hour-old baby boy.

"Albus Severus," she muttered again. "Honestly, could that boy come up with _more_ ridiculous names?" What kind of inferiority complex is he trying to give his children?" She imagined the lives of James Sirius and Albus Severus, always striving to live up to names of men who had made an irreversible impact on their father's life. She shook her head.

-o-

"I can't believe we're doing this again," McGonagall sighed, sitting once more next to Flitwick. This time the party was outside, a beautiful May day making the house too claustrophobic for the crowd that had gathered to celebrate Albus Severus Potter's first birthday.

"What's the fuss, anyway?" she grumbled. "The boy won't even remember all of these people who came to see him turn one year old."

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Minerva," Flitwick chided.

The pair watched as James - now two and a half and definitely acting the part - ran across the lawn, weaving between people's legs with a grin on his face that made McGonagall entirely uneasy. She kept a close watch on him as he approached the table heaped with gifts for Albus. The table also happened to hold an enormous two-tier cake and a rather large bowl of punch.

As he reached on grubby fist toward the red table cloth, McGonagall and Flitwick glanced at each other nervously.

"He's not going to-"

"He wouldn't possibly-"

"Harry should really be keeping a better watch-"

"He's going to-!"

Minerva stood up, but it was too late. With a very decisive yank on the long tablecloth, the punch bowl toppled over, spilling its contents into the grass, several presents fell off the pile in a crumpled heap and the huge cake went sliding right off the side of the table, landing on top of James with a loud _splat!_

James stood there looking thoroughly shocked at suddenly being covered in sugary goo. He scraped a bit of frosting off his face and licked his fingers. A grin stretched across his face impishly.

"James Sirius Potter!" Ginny shrieked, descending on the scene instantly. She grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him out of the mound of cake, her face furious.

McGonagall thought the two-year-old did a marvelous job at keeping from giggling uncontrollably while his mother screamed at him. He didn't look the least bit upset, but he did have the decency to stare at her solemnly through the entire lecture. Beside her, Flitwick was struggling to control his laughter. McGonagall rolled her eyes, unable to keep the small smile from tugging the corners of her mouth upward.

The stunned party-goers slowly went back to their business of chatting, pointing to the birthday boy and cooing, lounging about in the Potters' expansive, shaded back yard and generally trying to ignore the sudden absence of cake and punch.

Beside McGonagall, Flitwick chuckled as Harry arrived, took in his wife and cake-covered son, rolled his eyes heavenward and walked away again. He returned a moment later with a large bucket of water and promptly dumped it over his son's head.

James Sirius Potter just giggled.

-o-

She was seriously considering not sending it.

Professor Wickham, the new deputy headmaster - Flitwick had very firmly rejected the position at least four times before McGongall had offered it to the now-permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Head of Slytherin; he had joined the staff very quickly after the war and just making it past one year was enough reason for McGonagall to want him in a position of authority - had finished the latest batch of Hogwarts letters. And looking at the one on the top of the stack and seeing the name printed there, she was thoroughly tempted to burn it.

James Sirius Potter didn't really want to come to Hogwarts anyway, right?

She knew she was being hasty and unfair. The boy couldn't be _that _bad, right? He was just one boy. He didn't even have a twin. Just because he was named after two of the biggest pains in McGongall's living memory didn't mean he would be so awful. Right?

Oh, who was she kidding? The boy was a menace. She had dutifully attended the Potters' Christmas party last year and had nearly been knocked over twice by the troublesome eleven-year-old.

McGonagall heaved a sigh and rubbed at the throbbing vein in her temple. It was going to be a long seven years.

-o-

As the first years filed into the Great Hall, McGonagall took her yearly pleasure in examining their expressions and silently betting on which ones would end up where.

The dark-haired girl with the utterly terrified expression would probably be a Hufflepuff. The chubby boy with glasses and his hair parted perfectly down the center of his head would go to Ravenclaw. That one...Slytherin, no doubt. The one over there...Hufflepuff. That boy there with the overlong blonde hair...toss up between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

Her gaze fell inevitably on James Sirius Potter. She dearly wanted to smack her head on the table.

The boy was looking up at the ceiling with his mouth hanging wide open. Beside him, a boy with shaggy dark hair said something to him and they both laughed, grinning like maniacs. While their future classmates looked around silently or spoke in whispers, the boys' voices carried halfway across the hall. McGonagall couldn't make out what they were saying, but the smirks on their faces said it all.

Gryffindors. There was no other option.

She watched in horror as the eleven-year-old future bane of her existence reached up and ran a hand through his already messy hair.

* * *

A/N: An update! Hooray! If you're clever, you will eventually realize that one of the children Minerva observed at the Sorting is a very important future character. (Don't go looking for it _now_ for Merlin's sake; you'll get nowhere. A future chapter will hold the key though, I promise.)

So I completely randomly decided that James's birthday is in November and Albus's is in May. I then decided, before I posted this, that I should check to see what their astrological (zodiac) signs meant for their personalities (because whether we like it or not, those personality descriptions are freaky close to dead-on). I was very pleasantly surprised to find that my Albus is a perfect Taurus and James is exactly a Scorpio. It's like my brain knows these kinds of things subconsciously and just shoves me in the right direction. Let's see if I can get three-for-three whenever I decide on Lily's birthday.

And if you're curious, look up the personality traits for Aries (the zodiac sign for James Potter - the elder one) and Aquarius (Lily Evans). So dead-on it's creepy.

Speaking of subconscious shoves and James Potter...Cool story time. At one point, prior to the release of DH, I was attempting to make a very complicated timeline for a story I have since abandoned, and I randomly gave Lily and James Potter (the original ones, not their grandchildren) birthdays. Lily's was completely off - I had her in April or May... But I decided, 'James seems like a March kinda guy' (and not just because my birthday is in March, I swear...) and gave him the completely randomly Megan's-brain-generated birthday of March 27.

Imagine my shock (and delight - I'm definitely psychic) when Deathly Hallows came out and I read the chapter 'Godric's Hollow.' That's right, I predicted the birthday of James Potter. I. Am. Awesome. (Or just a really good guesser. You know.)

Yeah. So this chapter has been stewing away in my head for awhile now. I know I said we'd see more of James's friends, but I can't control what sort of scenes decide to form themselves in my brain while I'm at my job washing dishes and making pizza, you know?

I won't guarantee an update any time soon because now that school has started again, I have - ugh - real responsibilities. I do have a 3-day weekend coming up though, so if I don't get to go the best-friend date with my (duh) best friend like I'm hoping to, I'll see what I can do. No promises though.

Thanks for reading. Please review!  
-Megan :)


	8. Sterling

Sterling

James Potter was not a morning person. He'd never understood people who could get out of bed with smiles on their faces, perfectly happy to be awake and part of the world. James would get out of bed with a smile on his face when he was allowed to sleep till noon every day.

"Good morning!"

The boy who sat down across from him at the Gryffindor table had too-long hair that was so blonde it was nearly white. His eyes were nearly hidden under his mop, and the image of an over-friendly sheepdog popped into James's head.

"Isn't it a beautiful day?" the boy continued, smiling serenely as he reached for a cup of orange juice. James felt a flash of resentment toward him and sent a glare his way.

The boy's name was Sterling King - he shared a dormitory with James and Brax and the other first year Gryffindors. He had spoken briefly to James over the last few days, though all of their conversations had involved schoolwork, giving him the impression that the other boy was nothing but a rule-following, nose-in-book, homework-crazed goody two-shoes.

And he was a morning person.

Sterling King was chattering animatedly, looking completely content with his one-sided conversation. James resented everything from his strange hair to his stupid smile to the way he stared up at the crystal blue ceiling as he spoke. It was too early to deal with this.

Someone dropped into the seat next to James silently. He knew it was Brax without even looking. Brax was the only one who had figured out in the last two weeks that intelligent conversation before ten o'clock simply was not possible for James.

"Hey, Brax," Sterling greeted with a genuine smile. Brax smiled back.

"Morning, Sterling." He glanced at James. "Morning, James," he added, just for good measure. James grunted in response and Brax nodded, expecting nothing more.

"It's _so_ nice outside," Sterling sighed, still looking up at the ceiling with a wistful expression. Brax glanced upward. There were no clouds visible on the enchanted ceiling, promising for a beautiful day.

"Good thing," he said, grinning. "We have our first flying lessons today."

Beside him, James snorted, and both boys turned to look at their slouched, half-asleep roommate.

"Flying lessons," he muttered into his cereal, not looking at either of them, giving absolutely no indication he was speaking to anyone but himself.

"What a joke," he continued, still speaking to his spoon. Sterling looked over at Brax with a raised eyebrow.

"Not a morning person," he whispered.

"Ah."

Brax grinned. They had been at Hogwarts for just over two weeks now, and in that time, he had undertaken a personal mission to learn at least one interesting thing about each and every one of his roommates.

Sterling King, for example, was insanely intelligent, but was about as far from nerdy as one could get. Brax suspected he had somewhat of a photographic memory, though he hadn't found the opportunity to ask him about it yet. Sterling spent a lot of his time not doing anything - he got his homework done as soon as it was assigned and spent the next few days lounging around doing nothing in particular while his classmates stressed out over the foot-and-a-half-long essay they'd been set for Charms that they'd decided not to do until the night before it was due.

Drayden Ackerly, who slept in the bed next to Brax's, claimed to have a pet hippogriff, though the Gryffindor first years were still in hot debate over whether or not this was true. Brax had decided he believed him, only because the stories he told seemed too fantastical to be made up. James disagreed with him, and the two had found several hours' worth of amusement arguing back and forth on the topic.

Malachi Harris was a boy with dreadlocks that stuck up every which way and a grin full of teeth so white Brax had heard a few older girls muttering enviously. His mother was Nigerian and his father was a London native, and his father's best friend - Malachi's godfather - was from Brooklyn, New York. He fascinated and entertained all of his roommates for hours on end with tales of his family's traveling experiences, which were seemingly endless.

Brax was still working on the other three. He'd learned yesterday that Thor Brenton's older brother played Keeper for the Appleby Arrows, but so far he'd learned nothing about either Rory Sutter or Sam Bresden, other than Rory was thus far proving himself to be abysmal at Potions, and Sam was Muggleborn.

"...Quidditch team?"

Brax suddenly realized Sterling had been speaking the entire time he'd been musing over his roommates. "Sorry?"

"What's your Quidditch team? My parents are both huge Falcons fans, but I've always thought Puddlemere United was better. They think I'm insane of course," Sterling said with a grin. Brax laughed.

"I hear you. My dad is a really big Tornadoes fan - they're alright, but my mum grew up in Wales and corrupted me before I even knew what Quidditch was. Caerphilly Catapults all the way," he answered.

"No way," James muttered, managing a glance up at the two of them. "Harpies."

"Just cuz your mum played for them," Brax answered, rolling his eyes.

"No. Just better." And with that he went back to his breakfast, suddenly not at all interested to hear their opinions anymore. Apparently he was in danger of going over his conversation quotient for the morning. Merlin forbid he speak a full sentence before ten o'clock.

Brax noticed Sterling staring at James oddly and repressed a chuckle. Poor bloke. It took a strong stomach to deal with James Potter in the morning.

-o-

By the time Defense Against the Dark Arts rolled around, James was considerably more friendly.

"Hey, Sterling," he said with a genuine smile, leaning against the wall next to him as he and Brax joined the queue outside Wickham's classroom. Sterling smiled at him, bad moods at breakfast already forgotten.

"Hi, James. Excited for flying lessons later?"

James scoffed. "Flying lessons. What a joke. I have a Bliksem 360 under my bed I could take flying any time I want. I don't want to fly around on those shoddy old Cleansweeps while some professor breathes down our necks like we're all going to kill ourselves."

"You brought a broom to school?" Sterling asked, an eyebrow quirked. James's eyes flashed nervously, and he silently cursed himself for his big mouth. Was Sterling going to turn him in? The two boys stared at each other a moment before Sterling grinned.

"I won't tell anyone," he promised. James breathed a sigh of relief, and he offered the blonde boy a grateful smile. "I wish I were as confident as you are," he continued with a sigh. "I'm useless with a broom."

"I'll teach you," James offered spontaneously. "I helped teach my little sister how to fly. I can help you. We could start after flying lessons this afternoon!"

Sterling grinned. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Sure! It'll be fun! And it's way better to learn on a Bliksem than on those awful school brooms anyway."

James and Sterling chattered excitedly about their plans for the afternoon while Brax watched, suddenly feeling left out. Until ten minutes ago, he'd been James's closest friend. Now he couldn't help feeling as though he'd been replaced. He leaned against the wall, separating himself from their conversation, and crossed his arms.

"Hey, you'll come too, right?" Brax blinked. James was staring at him earnestly.

"Well...sure," he answered uncertainly. James's smile was blinding. Brax heard a couple girls behind him giggle.

"Good. It wouldn't be any fun without you there."

Brax couldn't wipe the grin off his face all throughout class, even when Wickham yelled at him for not paying attention - twice. James wanted him there. They really were best mates; he hadn't just been imagining it.

-o-

"Alright, everyone stand by a broom! Let's go, kids!" Professor Tully, who also taught Transfiguration, called out. The babble of voices died out as everyone hurried to find a broom to stand next to.

James was already bored out of his skull. He stood there with a petulant look on his face as his Transfiguration teacher tried to sort out two Slytherins who were fighting over one of three Nimbuses the school owned. James and some Ravenclaw girl had gotten the other two.

Once Tully had figured everything out, she clapped her hands. "Okay, everyone! Put your hand over your broom and say, 'up' firmly. Don't be shy about it," she instructed.

James met Brax's gaze and rolled his eyes. The other boy grinned in understanding. For two wizard kids who had been able to fly practically before they'd been able to walk, this was all very mundane.

"Up," he said in a monotone. The broom snapped up into his hand immediately.

"How'd you do that?" some Hufflepuff girl asked, her eyes wide. James shrugged, running his free hand through his hair - a nervous habit. The girl looked disgruntled as she attempted to command her broom into the air, to no avail.

James finally took pity on her.

"Here," he offered, dropping the broom unceremoniously, ignoring Professor Tully's reprimand for doing so, and moving to stand on her other side. He grabbed the girl's wrist and pulled her arm out so it was perpendicular to her side, then bent her arm at the elbow.

"Hold your palm flat to the ground with your hand open," he commanded, and she splayed her fingers obediently. He noticed briefly that her fingernails were painted a bright, obnoxious purple. How interesting.

"Now try," he said, stepping back. "And don't sound uncertain about it. It's just a broom, not a dragon," he added with a slight laugh.

"Up!" the girl said, and the broom jumped into her hand. She looked at it in shock for a moment before a delighted smile spread across her face.

"Thank you!" she squealed. James shrugged and grinned.

"Sure."

-o-

Sterling watched the exchange between James and the girl - Sterling thought her name might be Olivia, but he wasn't sure - and copied the movements he taught her.

"Up," he said quietly and was relieved when the broom sailed off the ground and into his hand.

"Okay, once you have your broom, everyone swing your right leg over it, like this," Professor Tully was calling out, demonstrating. She mounted her broom effortlessly, dismounted just as quickly and went back to walking among the students, correcting their technique.

Sterling glanced over at James to see he was already astride his broom, sitting there with his arms crossed across his chest, looking bored again. He glanced down at the Hufflepuff girl suddenly, then grinned at her before leaning over and holding her broom steady while she attempted to climb onto it.

After three failed attempts, James slid easily off his broomstick to help her.

Sterling realized he was staring and went back to figuring out how to mount his own broomstick.

He ended up clambering onto the broom with absolutely no amount of grace, but in the end he was seated astride the Cleansweep, gripping the handle for dear life. He glanced back toward James to see he'd successfully helped the Hufflepuff onto her broom. She was grinning hugely at him, and he smiled back up at her, shrugged with what appeared to be an attempt at modesty, and climbed back onto the Nimbus.

"Everyone on? Good," Tully was saying, looking around to see that everyone had successfully found themselves seated on their brooms with varying degrees of comfort apparent in their expressions. "Now, I want you all to grip the handle firmly, tilt it up just a bit, fly upwards about a meter and level out. Just hover for a moment, tilt the broomstick back toward the ground and _slowly _return to your starting position. Go ahead."

-o-

"This is stupid," James muttered to Brax as he hovered. He sat there and watched in amusement as some Slytherin boy tried to angle back down to the ground and slid right off the front of his broom. He laughed.

"Yeah," Brax agreed, watching Sterling. Their new friend was struggling, obviously not very comfortable with his feet off the ground. He was hovering much closer to the ground than everyone else, clutching the handle of his broom with white knuckles.

"We'll fix him up," James said confidently. "I just need to run back up to the dorm to get my broom."

"We should offer to put these away for Tully," Brax suggested. "That way we can just borrow the Nimbuses and save time."

James looked over at Brax as though suddenly seeing him in a new light. "That's a good idea."

"I know."

They grinned at each other.

-o-

"I'm so, so sorry!"

"It's...fine."

"No, it's not. Merlin, I'm sorry, really."

Sterling grimaced as James and Brax hoisted him to his feet. His right arm was bent in a very unnatural way and the Nimbus he'd been riding was sticking handle-first in the ground a few meters away.

James felt awful. He should have known better than to think Sterling was ready for _turning_. The boy could hardly fly straight, let alone go in any other direction. He held Sterling steady while Brax collected the brooms.

"I'll put these away, you take him to the infirmary," Brax said. James nodded and started to lead Sterling away.

"James, my arm is broken, but I can still walk straight," Sterling admonished, prying James's hand off his shoulder. James's face flushed.

"Right, sorry."

Sterling managed to laugh despite his pain. "It's alright. But hey, you can't say I didn't warn you, yeah? My dad's tried to teach me to fly a hundred times. I'm simply useless."

"Yeah," James agreed, grinning. "You're pretty awful. You should've seen your face as you fell." He flailed his arms, imitating Sterling's fall.

Sterling laughed all the way back up to the castle as James did his impersonation over and over, and when Brax caught up with them halfway to the infirmary and James had to do his imitation all over again, the three of them were in stitches by the time they reached Madam Pomfrey. Sterling didn't care anymore that his arm was broken or that Madam Pomfrey was reprimanding him for being so slow about getting to her - he had just found two pretty great new friends.

* * *

A/N: Aw. Don't you love him? I do. You'll learn a lot more about Brax in a future chapter as well - especially concerning why he reacted to Sterling "stealing" James the way he thought he was going to and why he thinks the way he does. Also, if any of you were paying attention last chapter, you'll recognize Sterling as one of the students McGonagall was observing at the Sorting and trying to predict which house he'd go to. Next chapter, we'll still be hanging around with James and company I think. Though I may very well change my mind. We'll see what happens.

Review, por favor! :) Thanks for reading.  
-Megan


	9. Unfair

Unfair

The day was bitingly cold and horribly windy to boot; the inhabitants of Hogwarts had all clustered around the fireplace in their respective common rooms, squashed into comfy armchairs and sofas or squeezed around study tables, or were walking as briskly as possible through drafty corridors to their destinations, not lingering anywhere for too long. No groups of students commonly spotted in various gathering places throughout the castle were to be seen anywhere. The library was all but vacant, none willing to sit around in the large, freezing room any longer than they had to.

One lone figure was out and about outside the castle walls. One solitary boy clad in a thick, nondescript, black wool cloak was out on the Quidditch pitch, whipping around faster than could possibly safe in such conditions.

Twelve-year-old James Potter pressed himself flatter on his broomstick, not feeling the icy wind slapping his face as he angrily flew laps around the pitch. He'd just received the worst belated birthday present of his life.

He'd been _so_ sure. There had not been a single doubt in his mind for the last two months. So confident had he been that he'd hardly bothered to actually practice anything. Sure, he'd gone flying a couple times with Brax - with Sterling watching faithfully from the stands with his feet firmly planted on the ground - but they'd done nothing more than fool around a bit and try to out-stunt each other.

How could this be happening?

When the sign-up sheets for Quidditch tryouts had been posted in the common room in early October, James Potter had been at the top of the list. And never, not for one second, had the possibility of failure crossed his mind. He felt so _stupid_. He whipped around a goalpost so fast he slid backwards on his broom. He corrected himself immediately, not the least bit unsettled.

He'd been flying almost longer than he could walk. He'd had more toy brooms than he could count - at one point, before his parents had donated them all to various charity organizations, the Potter household had held upwards of fifty toy brooms of various sizes and models between the three Potter children - and he'd gotten his first real broom at age seven. His flying skills could not possibly have come into question during the trials.

As if to prove this point to his non-present would-be captain, James slammed the broom into a steep dive, falling for almost forty feet before abruptly leveling out and changing direction. He left his seat momentarily as his momentum tried to continue carrying him forward, but again he corrected himself. His movements were instinctive, almost unconscious in how automatic they were. Anyone watching him would not have denied his talent was natural, inborn and already carefully honed at age twelve.

He should have made that stupid Quidditch team.

He'd heard Laryssa Heins say as much that morning when the roster had been posted in the common room. Laryssa was a fifth year and very pretty, and every boy in Gryffindor - and probably most of the male population of the rest of the school as well - knew she was a catch. James especially liked her hair - it was raven-black, fell in nearly perfect ringlets almost to her waist, and was always very shiny. More than once he'd been caught simply staring at the reflection of light from the fireplace on her hair as she sat in an armchair near her friends in the common room. And she was quite possibly one of the nicest people in school to top it all off.

She also happened to be the head Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Adelle Mansen?" Laryssa had questioned - loudly - over the noise of the crowd clustered in front of the Quidditch roster posting. She'd glanced around quickly to see the seventh-year girl in question was not in the room before continuing. "Didn't know shagging was a ticket onto the team these days."

She'd looked straight at James, whose heart sank instantly, and those blue eyes that so captivated the males of Hogwarts had softened. If he hadn't been so devastated he'd probably have melted into a puddle right there.

"I'm sorry, kid," she'd whispered, squeezing his shoulder. "It should've been you."

James jerked his broom around in a terrifyingly sharp-angled figure eight around two of the goalposts several times before shooting off across the field again. He'd seen Adelle Mansen and Eawen Katerwall - the Gryffindor captain - after lunch, squashed into an armchair, not even attempting to hide their disgusting display of groping and snogging. And he'd been out on the pitch ten minutes later, testing the limits of his Bliksem as he'd never done before.

He was just so _angry_.

James Potter was not an angry person. He rarely got upset about anything. Happy was a normal mood for him - unless he counted the first hour of his waking day, which he didn't - and laughter was his default setting. He hated feeling angry or sad, so he just didn't feel them. Whenever Albus threw a fit about something, instead of getting upset with him or at him, James found a way to laugh it off. As such, his younger brother was often annoyed with him, but James rarely let it affect him. He was also rarely jealous - whenever Lily or Albus got a new trinket, he usually didn't care to feel jealous of them because chances were, they'd let him look at it or play with it if he just asked. But there were rare moments when something happened and he just couldn't control his emotions.

James had never felt so angry in his entire life as he did at this moment. He should've have gotten that spot on the team. He _knew _it. And so did the rest of the _entire bloody house!_

"Hey, mate, I'm really sorry," Paxton Beaker, a sixth year and the Gryffindor Keeper had said at lunch. "That was low of Katerwall to pick favorites like that."

"Low? It was downright disgusting," the girl sitting next to Paxton had cut in, sneering. "Everyone with eyes can see he only chose her because he's shagging her. She's a decent flyer, but she's nowhere near as good as Potter. Can't believe Katerwall's more concerned with his sex life than with winning the Cup. Ravenclaw is going to beat us again this year if he doesn't step up."

"You're _surprised?_" another girl asked, laughing. "The second she stepped on the field for tryouts, everyone could see the way they acted around each other. No way we're going to win. We'll be lucky if no one gets beheaded because Katerwall is too busy ogling our Seeker than keeping Bludgers away from his players."

James just sat miserably with Brax and Sterling at his side, trying to tune out the matter-of-fact discussion of his failure. His friends had tried to cheer him up, but nothing had worked, and after ten minutes of relentless joke-cracking, story-telling and verbal Slytherin-abusing, they'd given up and lapsed into silence for the rest of the meal.

Darkness was beginning to fall, and despite his desire to keep flying until he became an emotionless ice sculpture, James could no longer feel his hands, and his legs and back were beginning to ache. Reluctantly - and still not feeling any better about the horribleness of it all - he allowed his broom to drift downward at a leisurely pace. His toes were just barely skimming the frosty grass when his grip tightened and he suddenly rocketed upward in one last surge of fury.

He ascended at a nearly ninety-degree angle, and only the death grip he had on his broom handle kept him from going flying right off the end of it. Almost a hundred and fifty feet in the air - quite a ways past the normal scanning level for Seekers - James leveled out and hovered there, observing the miniaturized Quidditch pitch below him.

That was supposed to be _his._ Gryffindor's first match against Slytherin was in four weeks - training started tomorrow. And _he_ was supposed to be there. It wasn't fair.

He glanced over at the castle, at the mass of glowing windows that was Gryffindor Tower. Now and then a shadow passed over one of them. James knew that in the common room, countless people were strewn about, warm in the crowded room on comfy chairs. The wind whipped his cloak around his shoulders, and he could feel for the first time that evening the sting against his cheeks. He realized he was freezing, and his teeth began to chatter. It was time to call it quits.

James pulled his broom around and dove toward the pitch in a much less death-defying dive than he'd been practicing most of the night. He landed quickly, ignoring the protest of his frozen stiff legs as he began jogging across the pitch, moving quickly now in his eagerness to get out of the cold.

He passed through the tunnel that led to the outside and stopped just beyond the entrance. He quickly shrunk his broom and slipped it into his pocket before setting off toward the castle at a fast jog.

When he stepped into the entrance hall, he was immediately doused in a wave of warmth, and a second wave of the most wonderful aroma washed over him, wafting out of the tall double doors of the Great Hall. He glanced at his watch. Supper had just started.

James's stomach growled, and he debated for a moment between going up to the now mostly empty common room and satisfying his hunger. His stomach finally won, and he headed in to the Great Hall.

Heads swiveled as he walked past - by now word had probably spread to the entire school that he'd been passed over as Seeker for the captain's girlfriend - but he looked straight ahead, searching the long Gryffindor table for his friends. He spotted Sterling's bright blonde head next to Brax's starkly contrasting dark one about halfway down, seated among their fellow year-mates.

They both grinned when he plopped down across from them.

"James!" Brax exclaimed cheerfully around a mouthful of potatoes. "We missed you!"

"Yeah," Sterling agreed with a smile. "Homework is no fun when you're not there trying to distract us."

James smiled involuntarily at this, and continued to do so as the meal progressed. Not once did anyone mention the newest Gryffindor scandal, and James very grateful for his friends and their ability to distract him.

He was still unhappy, but he figured, as he dug into his supper, that it probably wasn't the end of the world, and at least Adelle Mansen and Katerwall were both seventh years - he'd make the team next year for sure. Until then, he'd make sure those two had hell to pay for pulling such an awful stunt. He grinned to himself and made a mental note to write a letter to Uncle George later. He'd need a good supply of ammunition for the next several months.

* * *

A/N: I know I'm horrible. I haven't updated in over a month. But I'm super stressed right now and am just barely hanging on as the awful void of senioritis tries to suck me into its bottomless void. Seriously. It's bad. I've become such a lazy pile. I'm neglecting my homework right now actually. But I guess you guys get to benefit from that. Meh.

Poor James. Rejection sucks. Don't worry though, he'll make sure those two realize they should have known better than to mess with James Sirius Potter. I mean, just look at his name.

Review!


	10. Stand

Stand

"Mr. Potter, are you even listening to me?"

Albus's head snapped up to meet the gaze of a very displeased Professor Wickham.

"Sorry, Professor," he murmured. Wickham narrowed his eyes at him but otherwise did not comment on his out-of-place behavior. Albus mentally berated himself. He _never_ let himself daydream in Wickham's class. The man already spent most of his time trying to find reasons to get any Potter he could thrown in detention. Albus sighed quietly to himself.

_Why can't he just leave me alone? It's not like I intentionally cause disruptions in his class, and I always-_

"Mr. Potter!"

Albus actually jumped this time, causing several snickers to erupt from his fellow classmates, much to his embarrassment.

"Yes, sir?"

"I have now asked you the same question twice."

Albus winced. Wickham was in a foul mood at the best of times, and one of his biggest annoyances was having to repeat himself. To put his unexplainable dislike for Potters on top of it, Albus knew he was in a bad situation already.

"I apologize, Professor. I'm not feeling very well today," he lied off the top of his head. Wickham stared at him coolly.

"Be that as it may, being ill is not an excuse for not paying attention in my class. If you feel you are not capable of sitting through the lecture, you should excuse yourself and go to the Hospital Wing," Wickham growled, though the look on his face told Albus he should not, under any circumstances, ask to leave to see the nurse.

"Yes, sir," he whispered solemnly. "I am sorry."

"Now, can anyone with a _competent _brainplease tell me-"

"Excuse me?" Albus interrupted immediately, stung and shocked that even Wickham would be so crass. Wickham looked at him murderously.

"Mr. Potter, you have now not only caused a disturbance in my class, but spoken out of turn. If you are ill, I suggest you leave _now_," Wickham snarled, whatever remaining shreds of good grace he was clinging to abandoning him as he rounded on Albus.

"You have no right to call me incompetent," Albus told him angrily. Wickham stared at him for a full five seconds in shock. Albus was practically shaking with anger.

James was the outspoken one, the prankster, the troublemaker. Lily was the cute one, the one who got everything she wanted, the baby and the sweet one. Albus was the quiet one. He was the one who got good grades, kept his head down and his nose clean and never - _never, ever_ - talked back to teachers. For nearly two and a half years he'd calmly and quietly apologized for causing disruptions, for speaking out of turn, for inadvertently drawing attention to himself.

For two and a half years he had put up with Wickham's bullying. He'd listened to the man call his brother an idiot (not that Albus disagreed), a glory-seeker (which Albus found amusing since James _was_ the Seeker for Gryffindor, and Seekers got all the glory) and a nuisance (completely deserved). He'd taken all sorts of back-handed compliments, smirks and sneers in stride, telling himself getting in a fight with a professor was not worth it.

Albus may have been the quiet one, and he may not care to have people noticing him for his name, but he was not one to take an insult to his intelligence lightly. He was top of his class - he thought - and Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch team as well as favorite to be Captain next year as a fourth year. On top of all that, he spent his precious free time tutoring other students in _Defense Against Dark Art_s.

"Mr. Potter, sit down," Wickham said softly, his tone poisonous. Albus looked down in surprise to see he'd gotten to his feet. He had no recollection of doing so. Finding himself in such a position however, he was not about to back down.

"I'm sorry, sir," he started softly, looking down to gather his thoughts. When he raised his head again, his face was hard.

"I've sat through this class for almost two and a half years, sir, and I can't sit down anymore and let you treat me as though I've spent every minute in your class trying to cause a disruption. I have never intentionally drawn attention to myself; I have answered almost every single question you have ever asked me, and the answers I didn't know, I looked up. I have never turned in an essay or homework assignment late or incomplete. In fact, I usually write _more_ than the required amount.

"I've done well on every exam you've ever given and have sat quietly in the back of your classroom, not talking out of turn or passing notes or jinxing my classmates or pulling pranks. I have never disrespected you, either to your face or behind your back, which is more than many of my peers could say."

Albus glanced around to see several of his classmates quickly avert their eyes. He took a deep breath.

"Sir, I enjoy Defense Against the Dark Arts immensely, and you are one of the best teachers at Hogwarts...but I cannot sit here and allow you to insult my intelligence because for the _first time_ in the last two and a half years you've had me as a student I had a lot on my mind and could not concentrate on your lecture. I'm sorry if I've offended you, but I don't deserve this kind of treatment. I am not my brother, Professor Wickham. You would do well to remember that."

And with that, Albus swept his things into his bag and started toward the door while Wickham stared at him in open-mouthed shock. He had just turned the handle and was nearly out into the corridor before the man found his voice.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Albus turned. "To Professor McGonagall's office, sir. I assumed you would send me there yourself anyway," he said reasonably.

Wickham blinked several times before shaking his head as though to clear it.

"Sit down, Potter. Do not speak for the rest of class. Stay behind when the bell rings."

Albus hesitated. He'd fully intended to go to Professor McGonagall and await his punishment there. However, Wickham was not staring at him with loathing and anger as he'd expected.

"Sit down," he repeated softly. Albus closed the door and made his way back to his desk. Scorpius and Rice stared at him as he sat down, but they weren't the only ones. As Albus's gaze swept the room, several people turned around quickly, ducking their heads.

"Now that we've had that lovely interruption," Wickham started, turning once more to the blackboard, "let us continue."

-o-

Albus remained seated when the bell rang. Scorpius cast him a worried look and Rice clapped him encouragingly on the shoulder as they passed to leave for lunch.

He sat there calmly, gathering his materials back into his bag and then sitting with his hands clasped on the desk in front of him, awaiting his fate.

When the last student had left the room, Wickham flicked his wand. The classroom door slammed shut with a gust of wind that sent several papers left on the front desk fluttering. Albus felt the first stirrings of unease.

"Mr. Potter," Wickham began, turning to him at long last. Albus stared calmly back, not speaking. "Never, in all my years of teaching, has a student ever spoken to me the way you did today. I have never been so disrespected in my life. I should ban you from Quidditch the way you acted today."

Albus felt his mouth go dry. Banned from Quidditch? He wouldn't surely- not to his own team!

"Professor-"

"Do not interrupt, Potter. I should report this to McGonagall and have you serving detentions from now until the end of your Hogwarts career. I _should_ revoke any and all privileges concerning leisure activities and Hogsmeade visits. You accused me of some very serious things."

"Sir-"

"However," Wickham continued, cutting Albus off and causing his heart to skip a beat, "what you said today has made me see how unfair I've been to you these last two years. I want to apologize for treating you thus and for insulting you."

Albus had to remind himself that staring open-mouthed at someone was considered rude. He forced his mouth closed and stood up, moving quickly to the front of the room where Wickham still stood.

"Sir-" he began, only to be cut off again.

"Albus, I've treated you unjustly, and I owe you an apology for that." The Defense teacher looked down at him, and the tiniest of smiles lifted the corners of his mouth. "I hope you won't think me too harsh for still giving you detention though. You _did_ disrupt my class."

Albus couldn't keep the grin off his face then. He chuckled. He wanted to shout for joy. All this trouble and he was only getting _detention?_ It was more than he could have hoped to hope for. "Of course, sir. Friday night as usual then?"

"You've been in here too often if you can say that, Potter," Wickham said, and Albus was sure he was only imagining the warmth of fondness in the man's voice.

"Well whose fault is that?" he couldn't help asking, thinking of several undeserved detentions he'd served. Wickham looked at him somberly then.

"You're right," he said reluctantly. "But that won't get you off the hook for this one. Friday night, seven-thirty sharp."

"Yes, sir," Albus agreed readily. He grabbed his bag off his desk and made to leave the room. At the door he paused and looked back.

"Professor Wickham?"

"Yes, Albus?"

"Thanks," he said softly. "I know it's hard to admit you're wrong sometimes."

Wickham gave him another tiny smile. "And I know it's hard to live in the shadow of your brother. Especially when he casts such a large shadow," he said half-jokingly. Albus smiled back.

"Well, it means a lot to me that you said all this to me. Really," he said sincerely. Wickham's smile grew for just a fraction of a second before disappearing altogether, replaced by his usual scowl. He waved Albus away as though irritated with him.

"Get out of here, Potter. You're going to make people think I'm going soft."

Albus chuckled again. Things were beginning to look a bit brighter.

* * *

A/N: So I haven't updated this in FOREVER. And for those of you following my other story, you're probably doubly frustrated with me. I'm sorry. I've been super super busy the last few months, making super important college-related decisions and trying not to flunk my last semester of high school and trying not to rip throats out in frustration over yearbook. I'm very stressed, and all of my creative energy is spent either writing things for classes, on yearbook, or losing myself in my head to keep myself from going insane. In fact, the only reason I wrote this was because I was supposed to be writing a paper for my government class, and I really didn't want to. So here you go, I guess. My procrastinating is your present.

This is set in Albus's third year, in case you didn't catch that. I realize I haven't really set the groundwork for the bitter history Wickham has with James and Albus, but I'll be posting a chapter for that eventually. All you really need to know is that Wickham loathes James and before this scene, disliked Albus merely on principle, assuming as so many do, that the brothers are similar in personality and interests and therefore must both be intolerable students.

I do love Albus. And for some of you who were wondering, he's not always so grouchy. But most of the chapters I've posted have been of his adolescence, and everyone knows those preteen/early-teen years are horrible. He does have a fun side. I've started a Quidditch chapter, so hopefully we'll get to see that soon.

Please review, and please forgive me for my hiatus.  
-Megan


	11. Dance

Dance

"I won't."

"What? You have to."

"No, I don't. I won't. I can't."

Lily looked at her brother in exasperation. This was stupid.

"Albus, don't be an idiot," she reprimanded. "Just do it."

"I'm not an idiot," he muttered, glaring at her. "I just don't want to do it."

The two Potter children glared at each other for a long few seconds. Lily put her hands on her hips, doing a frighteningly accurate imitation of their mother, but even this was not enough to move Albus.

"You know what? I don't care. What's the big deal anyway? It's just a silly dance. Who needs a date? I don't. I'll just go with Rice and Scorpius," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"_They_ both have dates," Lily reminded him, still glaring daggers. Albus paled slightly. Then he shook it off and scoffed at her.

"Who cares? I'll go stag then."

"No you won't! Albus, you _promised,_" she said, resorting at last to whining. She jutted her lower lip out and pouted at him. He rolled his eyes.

"You know that doesn't work anymore, right? You're thirteen, not three," he told her. Lily sniffed indignantly.

"Still works on James," she muttered. Albus laughed then. Of course it did. James was ever the pushover where their little sister was concerned. Albus considered himself more of a challenge though; he would not be easily swayed by her puppy eyes and pouting.

"Alby, _please,_" she begged, hanging on his arm, throwing in the babyish nickname for good measure. She knew how much he hated it; she hoped it would be enough to push him over the edge.

"Lily, I am not taking your annoying little friend to the Winter Ball," he snarled, shaking her off. He looked at her sternly. "You'll just have to find some other bloke to take her."

"You _promised,_" she repeated accusingly. "I'm not going to have any fun if Estelle's not there, _please_. I don't want to go if she's not," she said sadly, her face finally betraying her true insecurities and fears of spending the night at the fourth-years-and-above dance without her best friend.

Lily had been asked by Rice as a last-ditch effort on his part to have a date. Albus found the entire affair incredibly amusing. Rice was so awkward with girls; he'd been too terrified to ask anyone despite many of the Slytherin girls' obvious attempts to gain his attention, and by the time he finally realized the dance was two weeks away, all of the fourth year girls had a date.

Albus, however, wasn't much more successful as far as girls went. He'd briefly had something with one girl last year before realizing she'd only been interested in his name; he'd been rather jaded since. And now Lily was trying to get him to take her silly little friend Estelle to this dance he didn't even want to attend.

"Please?" she asked one more time. "Do it for me, Al? I won't know anyone there besides you and James," she said sadly.

"You'll know Rice and Scorpius and Brax and Sterling and Malachi and Rose and Louis and Fred and-"

"Okay!" Lily cut him off, annoyed that he was taking her so literally. "But I don't really _know_ them, and I don't want to just hang out with family the whole night. Besides, you don't want to be the only one without a date, do you?"

"Maybe I just won't go," he said thoughtfully.

"Al-_bus_!" she snapped, stressing the two syllables of his name separately and stamping her foot like she did when she was really fed up with him. He fought back a smile at her childish behavior. She saw his expression and scowled before her face softened into a pleading look again. "Please?"

Albus sighed. He knew it was no good arguing with her. As the baby of the family, Lily was all too used to getting her way. She was not at all accustomed to things not going as she wished. She had to know he'd cave eventually. Arguing with her was just too tiring.

"Fine," he relented, and her face instantly morphed into the gorgeous smile that was already causing boys to fall all over her. She hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, thank you, _thank you!"_ she exclaimed happily, releasing him and grinning up at him as though he'd just given her a million galleons. He shook his head at her, struggling to maintain his mask of annoyance over the smile that was threatening to spread across his face. It was hard not to smile when Lily looked at him like that.

"You're welcome," he grumbled. She quickly went up on her toes and planted a kiss on his cheek and squeezed him around the neck. A moment later she was practically dancing down the corridor, on her way back to Gryffindor Tower. He rolled his eyes at her retreating form, a fond smile creeping over his expression.

"I love you!" she called back, blowing him a kiss before pulling back a tapestry and disappearing up the hidden staircase there. He shook his head. What was he getting himself into?

-o-

"Hi, Estelle?" Albus approached her warily. She was sitting in the courtyard with several other second year Gryffindors, chatting happily, her flyaway sandy hair as mane-like as ever. Albus was reminded of a small lion as he looked at her. How fitting.

She looked up at him in surprise, and several of the girls she was sitting with giggled, looking at each other suggestively. Albus wanted to turn around and walk away right there. Only Lily's expectant look from the midst of the group kept him rooted to the spot.

"Hi, Albus," Estelle said with a genuine smile. He managed a small smile back.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, gesturing to an empty bench on the other side of the courtyard. Her eyebrows shot up, but she stood, carefully extracting herself from the gaggle of Gryffindors. She followed him to the bench, and he was impressed when she didn't so much as glance back at her friends as they giggled uncontrollably.

"What's up?" she asked pleasantly, seating herself and looking up at him expectantly. He reluctantly sat next to her. At least she was being normal, he supposed. The few times he'd actually come in contact with her she was usually a simpering, giggling idiot just like the rest of them.

He looked at her for a moment in silence, at loss for words. He didn't want to do it. Honestly, he could just not go to the dance. It wouldn't be a big deal. No one would even notice his absence. Really.

Then he glanced back at the second years again, all of whom were staring intently at them. Lily caught his eye and raised one eyebrow at him as if to say, _Well, get on with it._ He took a deep breath.

"Would you like to go to the Winter Ball with me?" he asked, just spitting it out at once. She blinked at him for a moment in surprise before a pleased smile took over her face.

"Definitely," she agreed readily, as though she'd been expecting it. He supposed she probably had; Lily would have filled her in.

"Alright, good," Albus said, relieved it was over with. "Well, er...see you then." He stood and walked away very quickly, not wanting to prolong the awkwardness any longer. He didn't look back, so he missed the delighted grin that stretched across Estelle's face as she ran back to her friends.

-o-

"I can't believe you're going to the dance with _Albus Potter_," Charity sighed, her chin propped up in her hand as she stared dreamily into space. "So lucky."

"No joke," Paige agreed enviously, watching as Estelle slipped into her purple dress. "I just wish I could go at all," she added, frowning.

"Yeah, some people have all the luck," Siarha commented, laying on her stomach on Lily's bed while the redhead tried to figure out what to do with her hair.

Lily rolled her eyes with a smile. The second year girls had spent all afternoon wistfully watching Estelle and Lily get ready for the Winter Ball. The event had had all the girls in school acting embarrassingly silly for weeks, making googley eyes at boys, hoping to be lucky enough to be asked to go. Lily's dormmates in particular had spent an inordinate amount of time each morning primping to make themselves look as perfect as possible.

Lily honestly thought the whole thing was hilarious. She hadn't cared one lick about going to the Ball. She knew Rice had only asked her because all of the fourth year girls had dates by now and she was the only second year he'd ever actually said more than ten words to. Her only stipulation for accepting had been that Estelle go too; she wasn't going to spend all evening with Albus's stupid friends, and she certainly wasn't going to trail after her cousins like a tag-along little kid.

She would have preferred that Estelle go with Scorpius; she would have been the envy of the school for at least a few hours, and Merlin knew the poor girl had to do her share of putting up with Lily's obnoxiously large helping of limelight. Going with Al was the next best thing though, she supposed. Everyone loved him almost as much as they loved James, even if she personally didn't see what people saw in him.

"I wish someone had asked me," Indigo pouted, touching the skirt of Lily's gown longingly.

Lily was surprised no one _had_ asked Indigo, personally. The girl was beautiful. She wanted to tell her that, but she felt it would be weird, and it would only make her more upset.

Lily stood, examining herself in the full-length mirror beside Charity's bed. Lily's mother had sent the dress just the other day after she'd written home telling her she was going to the Ball with Rice. She had entrusted the project of finding a dress to her mother and aunts since she couldn't very well go to Hogsmeade to pick one out, and they'd done wonderfully.

The dress was navy blue with a sheer skirt that floated as she walked and fell just below her knees. The top was a mock wrap, fitted snugly, strapless, but designed so a simple sticking charm was activated as soon as the zipper was in place. A lacey bow sat just below her left shoulder, nicely accenting the silvery designs hiding in the skirt.

It wasn't a ball gown in any respect, but then, the Winter Ball was more a title than a description. None of the younger girls bothered with heavy ball gowns; they were too much of a hassle, and they got terribly hot. This dress fit her perfectly, that's all that mattered, and looking at herself in the mirror, she fancied she looked a bit older than thirteen. Fourteen or fifteen at least.

Estelle looked stunning of course. Her dress was a straight, full-length affair that left her already-tall frame looking even longer. It was solid purple with just enough detail on top to make it beautiful and elegant. Estelle's hair, usually a shoulder-length mane of wild blonde waves, was carefully tamed, framing her face in beautiful, soft waves that made her dark eyes stand out. Lily felt a surge of jealousy. Estelle always looked so much older; anyone would have sworn she was a sixth year in that dress.

"You both look so pretty!" Siahra cried, clapping her hands. Estelle beamed, and Lily couldn't fight the pleased smile at the compliment. One of the girls produced a camera from somewhere, and Lily's smile instantly vanished. She eyed the contraption warily.

"You have to take a picture," Paige said, seeing Lily's face. "You both look so gorgeous."

Lily grimaced. She hated having her picture taken. She supposed it was a product of growing up under the public eye, but she couldn't stand cameras.

"Yeah, Lils, calm down. We're not going to send it to the _Prophet_ or anything," Selene said from across the room. She'd been sitting on her bed throughout the whole afternoon, ignoring the calamity of her roommates, reading a magazine and looking thoroughly bored with the entire affair as Lily and Estelle prepared for the dance.

Selene Rochester had disliked Lily from their very first day at Hogwarts together, though Lily had no idea what she'd done to earn the other girl's disapproval. Selene frequently made nasty comments about the constant spotlight Lily and her family lived in, snidely remarking on every article that ever appeared in the paper. She seemed to harbor the opinion that Lily secretly enjoyed all the attention.

Paige frowned, looking down at the camera in her hands then up at Lily again. "I wouldn't," she promised softly, seeing the redhead's unhappy face.

Lily mentally berated herself. These girls were her friends. They'd shared a dorm for a year and a half, and they were all great to her - except Selene of course, but who counted her anyway? She felt bad for suddenly distrusting them.

"Forget it," Selene scoffed, casting _Witch Weekly _aside - Lily grimaced when she saw her mother was on the cover again - and striding across the room. "Perfect Lily doesn't want her picture taken, girls. Best respect her wishes." She took the camera from Paige's hand and tossed it carelessly onto the nearest bed. Paige let out a noise of protest and went diving after it.

"I didn't say that," Lily said with a frown. "You can take the picture yourself if you want," she added, her chin jerking up defiantly. Selene was tall, elegant and very pretty, and Lily felt horribly plain next to her as she stared her down, but she refused to let that show.

"No, it's okay," Paige said, putting the camera back on her bedside table. "You should get going; you'll be late."

"Take a picture," Estelle said with a smile, intervening as usual. "I want you to."

Paige glanced uneasily between Lily and Selene. Lily broke off the silent stare-down to give the girl a reassuring smile.

"It's fine."

"Okay...smile..." Paige held the camera up, and Lily and Estelle linked arms and grinned for her.

"We better get going," Estelle said as soon as the device was set aside, steering Lily by the elbow to the door and down the staircase, leaving the tension-filled room behind.

-o-

"I can't _stand_ her!" Lily exclaimed vehemently as soon as the portrait hole closed behind them. She stalked down the corridor angrily, Estelle hurrying to keep up.

"_Perfect Lily doesn't want her picture taken," _she mimicked, a nasty expression on her face. "She's just so awful."

"Hey, forget her, Lily. She's just jealous. I heard she asked Archer Carroway to the Ball and he turned her down in front of the entire common room," Estelle said.

Lily's insides froze a little, and an all-too familiar flutter erupted in her stomach at the mention of Archer Carroway. She'd run into him countless times - sometimes literally - since that first day on the train. He always had some comment to make about her knocking into him, and she never had a witty comeback. She lost all power of speech around him; it was as though he struck her dumb and senseless. She felt her cheeks heat up at the thought of him.

"He's taking Bridget Pearson," Estelle told her, and Lily felt viciously hateful all of a sudden, jealousy raging through her for a brief, fiery moment before she squashed it.

"I'm surprised he didn't ask you," her friend added.

Lily gave her a miserable look.

"He would've had a lot more fun with you than with stodgy old Bridget."

Lily grimaced.

"I bet he would love your dress."

"Will you _stop?_" Lily whined, turning to look at her best friend in disbelief. She loved Estelle, but honestly, sometimes she swore the girl was trying to kill her.

Estelle laughed at her pained expression. "That was a new record for you, Lily. You can't usually hold out so long."

"You're terrible," Lily muttered. Estelle looped her arm through Lily's again with a grin.

"But you love me," she reminded her.

"Yeah yeah."

-o-

They met Albus and Rice in the Entrance Hall as agreed upon. Scorpius was waiting with them, some fourth year Slytherin girl on his arm. Lily didn't remember her name. It didn't matter anyway. Scorpius didn't date; she had no reason to actually learn any of the girls' names because they were more like accessories than anything else. Scorpius had one on his arm for every social event ever, but at the end of the night, they went their separate ways just as platonically as ever.

Lily suspected it was because he was terrified of falling in love. James said it was because he was gay. Lily wasn't sure she bought that.

Either way, she couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked in his black - of course - dress robes. His blonde hair had been cut recently, falling just above his liquid silver eyes. He was gorgeous. Every girl in school wanted him. Lily would have to be blind not to be attracted to him.

Not that she'd ever tell anyone but Estelle.

"Hey, Lily," Rice greeted with his usual easy-going smile. He held his arm out to her and she graciously accepted it. She glanced at Albus to see him doing the same with Estelle.

"You look very pretty," Rice told her softly as they walked through the double doors to the Great Hall. Lily smiled up at him. He was so sweet. She was sure any number of girls would have gone to the dance with him if he'd found the courage to ask them. It was impossible not to like him.

"Thanks, Rice. You look nice yourself," she answered.

The Great Hall was beautifully decorated. The tall Christmas trees were decorated in silver and gold, and every surface was frosted with white and silver. Snow hung in the air, never quite falling, but keeping the air cool above the dance floor. The long house tables were pushed to the side, and smaller round tables were scattered throughout the Hall. Groups sat and talked while others danced and others checked out the food.

Scorpius led the way with his girl to a table toward the back of the Hall where most of the fourth year Slytherins had convened. Lily felt suddenly shy, faced with the beautifully-dressed fourth year girls seated there. She felt each one of them give her a once-over. One smiled at her, a couple gave her a look of general approval, but most of them looked disinterested. Lily was just glad she was not attracting looks of dislike.

"You guys remember Lily," Albus introduced, gesturing to her. She smiled nervously. "And this is Estelle, Lily's friend," he added, indicating Estelle standing slightly behind him. Lily knew Estelle was just as nervous as she was, and the two shared a slightly bewildered look.

"Hi, Lily, hi Estelle," the girl who had smiled said. "I'm Bayli."

Bayli was small and slight, but well-built and sinewy. Her dark, straight hair was cut just below her chin, and she'd done nothing to it for the evening, which Lily thought suited her well. Her dress was plain, knee-length and silver. She looked as though she'd put absolutely no effort into getting ready at all, yet she looked beautiful, in Lily's opinion.

She decided she very much liked Bayli.

-o-

Lily laughed at her ridiculous best friend. Estelle was dancing like a lunatic, throwing her arms around and laughing hysterically at how completely idiotic they were both being. The two girls were surrounded by older students, but they didn't care one bit; they were having the time of their lives.

"I'm go glad you're here," Lily whispered in her friend's ear, drawing her close. "I would be miserable without you."

Estelle grinned. "Likewise!"

Lily shook her head and laughed again, allowing Estelle to lead the way in yet another round of crazy dancing. The two paid no attention to the strange looks they were receiving; no one else mattered. They were the best of friends, and right then, they wanted nothing more than to enjoy one another's company while being complete nutters.

Estelle grabbed her hands and spun in a circle. Lily shrieked with laughter as they whirled around, still laughing when her friend released her and she went spinning into the crowd.

"Ouch! Watch it, will you?"

Lily staggered, trying to regain her balance and focus her eyes on whomever she'd just hurtled into. She was still laughing.

"Sorry," she giggled, stumbling backward. She finally managed to stand still long enough to see that the girl she'd run into was Bridget Pearson, a Gryffindor fourth year who was undeniably gorgeous, but nevertheless one of the most boring people Lily had ever met. She wasn't nice, but even insulting her was no fun because she never had any interesting comebacks anyway.

"Merlin, who let you stupid little second years in anyway?" Bridget asked snottily, rubbing her arm where Lily's elbow had smacked her. Lily hoped she'd have a bruise. Her chin jutted out indignantly at the insult.

"Rice Parker asked me," she informed the older girl. Bridget rolled her eyes.

"Whatever. Just go away."

"Gladly." Lily spun around to leave, only to run smack into another very solid person. She jumped backward, her face flushing in embarrassment.

"Sorry!"

"For the love of Merlin," Bridget exclaimed loudly. "Do you _ever_ look where you're going?"

"Hey, it's okay," an all-too familiar voice said with a soft chuckle. Steadying hands held Lily's elbows as she refocused her eyes on the face of none other than Archer Carroway.

Lily's face blushed an even deeper shade of red.

"Nice to run into you again," Archer said, laughing. He let her go, and she took an unconscious step backward. He was grinning at her, completely unaffected by the fact that she'd just stepped on his foot and run into his chest.

"Hi, Archer," Lily mumbled. "Sorry for bumping into you. Again."

"Nothing new," he assured her, his entire expression indicating repressed mirth. Lily wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again. Why did all of her encounters with Archer involve literally running into him?

"Archer, we should go get something to drink," Bridget interjected, her hand latching onto his arm. "I'm thirsty."

Archer cast her an amused look; the girl was being painfully obvious in her desire to take him away from Lily. "Yeah, okay," he said agreeably. Lily wondered briefly what had possessed him to ask Bridget to the dance; he was so easy-going, nice, funny and creative, and she was so...not. She didn't get it.

"See you around, Lily. I'm sure you'll run into me again soon," Archer said, grinning. Lily grimaced, knowing it was inevitably true, and he laughed again as Bridget led him away.

"Oh, Merlin," she muttered to herself, watching him leave. "What is _wrong_ with me?" Her face was still burning as she went about looking for Estelle.

Someday, she vowed, she would have an actual, intelligent conversation with Archer Carroway that did not involve her recently running smack into his chest. Maybe.

* * *

A/N: There is a link on my profile to pictures of the dresses worn by Estelle, Lily and Bayli at the dance.

Summer is upon us! My yearbook is almost done, and I'm preparing to move in with my dad for the summer to take care of my little brother and sister. I haven't updated in forever. Forgive me.

I went to a Glee concert. It was fantabulous. I am in love. Yes. Glee is wonderful.

I have a new oneshot that I randomly wrote. I'm really interested in the Malfoys right now; I'd like to write a story about them eventually, but I'm trying to figure Draco out. So read "The Garden Wall" and tell me what you think.

Yes, I know I don't write frequently enough. I'm working on it. Now that it's summer, maybe I can have more writing time. We'll see.

Please review. :)


	12. Dating

Dating

Thirteen-year-old Scorpius Malfoy stared at the girl in front of him. She was looking at him through her eyelashes, her face coy and flushed. She was very pretty, a fourth-year and smart too.

Ava Irkhart had asked _him_ to Hogsmeade. Now they sat at the Three Broomsticks at a corner table drinking butterbeer and staring at each other. Scorpius felt horribly awkward. He hadn't thought about the fact that they would have to make conversation with only each other for the entire afternoon. He swallowed and had to consciously remind himself not to lick his dry lips. He didn't want to look creepy.

"So..." Ava started uncertainly, glancing at him again. "You made the Quidditch team this year, right? As Seeker?"

"Chaser," Scorpius corrected immediately. He remembered to smile reassuringly a moment too late; Ava had already turned away awkwardly.

"Erm...Do you like Quidditch then?" he asked, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. Ava turned to look at him again and shrugged slightly.

"Yeah... I mean, I guess so. My brothers are more into it than I am. They're huge Arrows fans," she said. Scorpius could think of no response to that, so he nodded.

The pair lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. Scorpius took a few more sips of butterbeer while Ava stared out the window. He wanted to smack his head on the table. Why had he agreed to come out with her? And why had no one told him dates were so horrible?

"D'you want to walk around town some?" Ava asked after another moment. "It's so nice outside."

"Yes," Scorpius agreed, hopping off his stool instantly. Anything to get away from the awkwardness of their corner table in the bustling pub.

They set off walking down the street, still not speaking much, just looking around at the shops.

"Want to go to Honeydukes?" Scorpius asked.

"Oh, yes," Ava answered enthusiastically, smiling a real smile for the first time in an hour. She grabbed his hand and started walking more quickly.

Scorpius let her drag him down the road, staring at their entwined fingers in mild surprise. He decided he rather liked the way her hand felt in his. Hers was smaller, smoother and more delicate. He liked the feeling of his hand cupped around hers, her fingers tight on his as she pulled him toward the sweet shop.

He could get used to this.

-o-

"Scorpius?"

Scorpius looked up as Ava sat next to him. Three weeks had gone by since their first date, three weeks since they'd become the new couple to talk about, and indeed they'd been the talk of Slytherin until the other day when some sixth year was caught cheating on his girlfriend with a Ravenclaw seventh year. The newest scandal had quickly driven Scorpius and Ava from everyone's minds.

Scorpius was grateful for it. He got enough unwarranted attention as it was between being his father's son and being friends with the son of Harry Potter. He didn't really care to have everyone talking about his dating life as well.

"I thought you were studying," Scorpius commented as Ava leaned against him. He had been reading his potions book, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong in his latest disaster, but thus far he'd made no progress.

"Marie didn't show up," Ava said with a shrug. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out why I'm so awful at potions," Scorpius sighed. "But I'd rather talk to you," he added, snapping the book shut. He was rewarded with a dazzling smile, and he smiled back.

"Want to go for a walk before supper?" asked Ava hopefully.

"Sure," he said, tossing the book aside. "Let's go."

-o-

"This is so beautiful," Ava sighed, leaning her head on Scorpius's shoulder. They were standing at the edge of the lake, watching the sunset.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking her hand. She turned her face up to smile at him, and he suddenly found himself nose-to-nose with her. Her breath caught, and her smile faltered.

Scorpius stared at her, trying to calm his suddenly pounding heart. She was looking at him expectantly, and he knew what she was waiting for.

The two stood there for what seemed like an eternity, staring at one another in utter silence. Ava's face fell slightly, and she started to draw back. Scorpius, realizing his window was closing, squeezed her hand, swallowed hard, and leaned forward.

Their lips touched for a fraction of a second before they both snapped back away from one another and looked around sheepishly. No one was anywhere to be seen, however, so the only other place to look was at each other.

Scorpius couldn't keep a smile from inching across his face. A moment later, she was grinning at him. He'd just _kissed _a girl. He was still marveling at this fact several seconds later when he realized he was staring at her stupidly.

"We'd, erm...better get back up to the castle. It's almost time to eat," Scorpius muttered, feeling the moment grow quickly from sweet to awkward. Ava nodded.

"Yes. Let's go," she agreed, slipping her fingers back into his.

He stole glances at her as they walked. She had a soft, almost disbelieving smile on her face as she strolled beside him, and every now and then she'd lift her hand ever so slowly and touch her lips where he'd kissed her.

He, Scorpius Malfoy, had just kissed a girl.

-o-

"Where've you been?"

Scorpius looked up to see Albus sitting cross-legged on his bed, his charms homework spread out across his lap and on the sheets in front of him. The black-haired boy claimed he did his best learning atop his own bed. Scorpius has never understood, personally. He needed a desk and a chair – solid surfaces to balance his books and notes.

"I was hanging out with Ava," he replied with a shrug. Albus raised an eyebrow at the mention of Scorpius's girlfriend of five weeks, and Scorpius asked, "Don't you like her?"

"I like her fine," Albus assured him. "But you missed Quidditch practice."

Scorpius froze, and he could have sworn his heart stopped for a fraction of a second. "What? I can't have."

"Well today is Tuesday," Albus said matter-of-factly. "And two hours ago was seven o'clock."

"Shit." Scorpius sank onto his bed looking distraught. "I've only been on the team a month and Griff is going to replace me. I can already imagine my father's reaction. 'You got kicked off after only a month? You _must_ be terrible.' Oh, Merlin."

"Mate, calm down," Albus said, speaking over Scorpius's mutterings. "Griff isn't going to kick you off the team because you missed one practice. We didn't even do anything that important. Just go find him and tell him you're sorry you missed and you'll make it up with me tomorrow night, okay? I can fill you in on everything you missed."

"I can't tomorrow," Scorpius replied immediately. "Ava and I—"

"Seriously?" Albus interrupted.

Scorpius blinked. "What?"

"Rice and I haven't seen you without Ava at your side for more than ten minutes in weeks. Don't you think it's a bit much?" Albus asked. "I know you fancy her and all, but have you ever heard of too much of a good thing?"

"I guess I hadn't noticed," Scorpius answered, shrugging. "Didn't realize it was bothering you," he added, sounding slightly wounded.

Albus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I like Ava, okay? She's great. You two are great together and all that. But, c'mon, mate. You both have to have a life outside each other. You're going to end up hating one another if you spend every second together. Look at James and me," he added, grinning.

Scorpius snorted, remembering all too clearly the famous arguments of the Potter brothers. "Yeah, true. I'll cancel my plans with Ava and be at practice tomorrow, alright? Promise."

-o-

"Scorpius! Scorpius!"

Scorpius looked over to see Ava making her way through the crowded common room, a butterbeer in one hand. When she finally reached him, she grinned up at him excitedly.

"You were so great out there!" she exclaimed, using her free arm to hug him. He smiled back gratefully.

"Thanks, Ava," he said wholeheartedly, hugging her.

Scorpius had just participated in his first ever Hogwarts Quidditch match. Slytherin had been down by only one goal when Mathias Urquhart, the Slytherin Seeker, had gone soaring in a deadly downward spiral toward the Snitch with James Potter hot on his tail. James had pulled up out of the dive just in time to avoid smashing face-first into the turf, but he'd given up the Snitch in the process.

Urquhart, ever the daredevil (or idiot, in the general population's opinion), had closed his fist around the Snitch mere seconds before slamming into the ground. He was currently lying in the infirmary boasting twenty-three broken bones and a fractured skull, and he was damn proud of it. Scorpius was sure he'd never heard of anyone who had suffered more Quidditch-related injuries than Mathias Urquhart. He made a mental note to ask Rice about it later; the boy was a walking Quidditch encyclopedia.

Scorpius had never played harder than he had today. Euan Griffin – or "Griff" as he was commonly referred to by his fellow Slytherins – their captain, had pushed them extraordinarily hard during practices in the weeks leading up to the match, especially after hearing the Gryffindors had been up at dawn every day for a week by the time the Slytherin team began practicing.

The hard work had paid off. Scorpius was sore, tired and bruised in more places he cared to count, but the ache in his arms and back was a sweet one; it meant they'd won.

-o-

"You've barely spoken to me all night."

Scorpius looked over in surprise to see Ava standing at his elbow, looking up at him with sad eyes and a slight pout on her lips.

"It's a party, Ava," he reminded her. "There are dozens of people to talk to."

"But none of them are your girlfriend," she pointed out.

Scorpius felt a twinge of irritation. He spent more time with her than he did with his own two best mates; she couldn't give him one night to accept the praise and adoration of all the Slytherins who had doubted him two months ago?

"Don't be like that," he said as gently as possible. "I spend plenty of time with you."

"Yeah…" she murmured, chewing on her lip. He could tell she was still unsatisfied and suppressed an exasperated sigh.

Instead of continuing down this pointless path with her, he turned to resume conversation with Albus and Nicholais Montague, the Keeper. Nick and Albus were recounting a particularly spectacular save on Nick's part, laughing uproariously.

Scorpius had only just gotten caught up in their story again when he felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned to see Ava still standing there, looking annoyed with him.

"You know, it's rude to turn your back on someone you're having a conversation with," she informed him.

"I thought the conversation was over," he answered honestly. "You stopped talking."

Ava's eyebrows rose at that, looking taken aback. "Well if you're going to be that way, then I don't _want_ to talk to you," she snapped, spinning on her heel and marching away. Scorpius stared after her, perplexed.

"Was it something I said?" he muttered to himself in confusion. Then he shrugged. Well, whatever her problem was, she was sure to cool off eventually.

-o-

"Aren't we going to Hogsmeade?"

Scorpius looked up from his potions book, already in a bad mood from his usual struggle with a subject that was supposed to come naturally to him, being the son of two fantastic potioneers.

"I have to study," he answered, his eyes back on text in front of him before the sentence had even completely left his mouth.

"It's Saturday."

"And I'm failing potions."

"Scorpius, you never do anything with me anymore," Ava complained, plopping down across the table from him. "You spend all your time doing homework or playing Quidditch or hanging out with Albus and Rice."

Scorpius slowly put his book down and placed his hands on the tabletop between them. He looked up at her very calmly.

"That is because, A, we're at school if you haven't noticed, and we get a lot of homework; B, I'm on the Quidditch team, and in order to win, we have to practice a lot; and C, Albus and Rice are my best mates," he told her.

"But, D, I'm your girlfriend," she protested.

Scorpius closed his eyes. He just wanted her to go away. Sometimes he hoped, if he wished hard enough, she'd just, _poof_, disappear. When he opened his eyes however, she was still there.

"Ava, I really need to figure out why I suck at potions," he told her plainly. "My dad is going to kill me if I don't pick my marks up."

"Fine," she sulked, getting up. "I'll just go to Hogsmeade _by myself_."

"Have fun," he replied in a monotone. His nose was already back in his book by the time she'd left the common room.

-o-

"Scorpius."

Just the way she said his name made him edgy now. It had been over two months. If he wanted to know exactly how many weeks and days it had been, he could have asked her he was sure, but speaking to her was irritating. He hadn't found a way to nicely tell her to bugger off yet. Christmas break was two weeks away and Scorpius couldn't wait to go home where the only female around was his mother, and the only person he had to worry about pleasing was his father.

"Ava."

"The Winter Ball is coming up."

Scorpius nearly groaned aloud. He'd been trying for two weeks to figure out how to tell Ava their "relationship" was over, and now he had to tell her right before the Winter Ball? It was the event all girls in Hogwarts dreamed about all year – it was the biggest excitement of entering fourth year for those girls.

"I'm not going," he told her. There, he said it. It was out in the open. Let the chips fall where they may.

"_What?_ You have to go, Scorpius. You're my boyfriend. Besides, I already have my dress."

Scorpius reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a massive headache coming on. He looked up at her standing above him while he sat at his usual corner table of the common room, and he shook his head.

"Look, Ava. These last few weeks have been great and all, but—"

"_Are you breaking up with me?"_ she screeched. Scorpius winced as all of the occupants of the common room turned as one and looked over at them.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he murmured. And in that instant, he honestly felt bad. She looked thunderstruck as she stood there, mouth agape, arms hanging limply at her sides. The thought occurred to him to take it back, to stick it through and at least go to the Ball for her, but it was too late. Tears welled up in her eyes and her hands balled into fists, and Scorpius's heart sank.

"I _hate_ you, Scorpius Malfoy," she spat. "I hope you fall off your broom and break your neck!" And on that lovely note, she turned her back on him and stormed away.

And as he sat there, staring after her in shock – after all, he may not have particularly enjoyed her company anymore, but he certainly wouldn't wish her bodily harm – Scorpius Malfoy came to a decision.

Relationships were not worth this. He hated having to plan his life around pleasing someone else. He hated the hassle of trying to balance one more thing on his already over-loaded plate. He certainly never wanted to feel that pain that he'd seen briefly flash through Ava Irkhart's eyes as he confirmed that he was breaking up with her. No, he wanted no part in all of that.

And so it was that thirteen-year-old Scorpius Malfoy vowed to never fall in love.

* * *

A/N: Whoa, an update? What's that? I did this instead of studying today. I was too tired to read a textbook, but I didn't want to go to bed at like 8:30, so I wrote. Hooray!

Sad, huh? Loveless Scorpius. But I got to thinking about what I wrote about him from Lily's perspective about his never dating or having relationships with girls, and this was the result.

Hope you enjoyed it. No promises on future updates any time soon. Usually I just write random snippets when they come to me, but I rarely seem to accumulate enough for a real chapter. Lucky I didn't want to study econ today.

Please review! :)


	13. Taking After

Taking After

"Rose, wait a second, dear."

Rose Weasley struggled not to make a face as her mother called her back. She took a deep breath and, exchanging a glance with her younger brother, turned around.

"Do work hard this term," Hermione Weasley said, smoothing down Rose's collar. Rose, having developed with perfection the ability to stand still while her mother fussed over her, said nothing. "Don't let your Arithmancy marks slip; they were getting rather low last spring. I worry about you, darling. You're not getting distracted, are you?"

"No, Mum," Rose assured her. "I'm not getting distracted."

"You have O.W.L.s this year, remember. You'll have to put extra effort in," Hermione reminded her. Rose suppressed a sigh and forced as smile to her face.

"Yes, Mum."

Hermione tucked a stray strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. She scrutinized the lanky fifteen-year-old with a practiced eye for a long moment before pulling her close for a hug. Rose wrapped her arms around her mother and rolled her eyes fondly.

"I love you, Mum," she said with a sincere smile this time as she pulled back. Hermione swallowed and blinked rapidly for a moment before smiling as well.

"And I love you, Rose. Do well. Be careful. Stay out of trouble. Study hard. Don't forget to–"

"_Mum,"_ Hugo interrupted in exasperation. Rather than looking abashed for her excessive chiding, Hermione grabbed him and smothered him in a hug as well.

"Hermione, let the boy breathe," Ron said, looking alarmed when he noticed his son's face starting to turn purple. "It's not as though you'll never see them again; they'll be home for Christmas."

"Let me say goodbye to my children," Hermione snapped, planting a kiss on Hugo's cheek. Rose was proud of him for taking it all in stride, managing not to look the least bit embarrassed by their mother's behavior.

"It's fine, Dad," Hugo said with a wry grin. Over Hermione's head, Ron nodded at them both approvingly.

They went through this every September and every January when they said goodbye for the term. Rose and Hugo had learned long ago that it was easier on everyone if they just put up with their mother's mollycoddling and over-emotional displays; if they tried to resist it was only harder on their mother, which usually involved tears and more kisses and lectures than necessary.

Rose knew it wasn't because Hermione was naturally an overly emotional person – indeed, she was usually the least likely person to have an emotional crisis and normally the most level-headed one in the entire Weasley family – but she worried for them a lot. When she was younger, Rose thought it was just because being away from her children made her nervous. Now that she'd had four years of History of Magic and a few rounds of story-telling from her uncles, she knew it was because her mother remembered all too clearly the kinds of trouble she'd once gotten into at school and was terrified her children were going to find themselves in equally bizarre and life-threatening situations.

So, twice a year Rose patiently underwent public humiliation for her mother's peace of mind.

"Study hard," Hermione repeated, smoothing Hugo's mussed hair for the third time. He nodded agreeably, though Rose knew all too well how little time he actually put into his schoolwork. Not that she was much better. She was smart enough, sure, and she got her work done just fine, but she didn't spend hours slaving over it like she was sure her mother once had. She got it out of the way as quickly as possible, not caring much if it was the best possible quality as long as it was thorough and complete.

Hugo sometimes didn't do his schoolwork at all.

"Have some fun too, yeah?" Ron murmured, giving Rose a briefer, less bone-crushing hug. She grinned up at him, even going so far as to stand up on tip-toe and kiss his cheek. Ron's ears turned red, which amused his daughter to no end.

"Love you, Dad," she said, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back, smiling at her tenderly. Rose and Ron had always shared a special bond; in the last few years a lot of it had come from mutual exasperation with Hermione, but it was on a deeper level as well. They were both the quiet ones in the house, taking a back seat to Hermione and Hugo's more demanding and dominant personalities, and they'd grown closer still since Rose had started Hogwarts.

Even in looks, Rose took more after Ron than Hermione. She had her Mum's brown eyes, as did Hugo, and she'd inherited a mad mess of curly hair, but there the similarities ended. She didn't consider herself beautiful – she was too rugged, a little too boyish in figure, too used to getting dirty with the boys, hands a bit too calloused from playing Quidditch, hair a little too bushy, nose a little too long, and muscles much too lean to be considered beautiful in a feminine way. But she was alright with that. She had long ago come to terms with the fact that she'd never be traditionally beautiful like Auntie Fleur or Aunt Ginny.

Hugo took more after Hermione with his darker hair – still red, but with more of a brown tinge – his high cheekbones and small nose. He was quite attractive really, Rose supposed; she'd heard a few of the girls in his year muttering about him once or twice, and over the summer he had grown rather a lot.

Maybe that was the reason Rose put up with her mother's cossetting. She'd often wondered if she wasn't a disappointment to Hermione. Surely the woman had expected a daughter more like herself – bookish, brainy, opinionated, strong. Rose was smart, sure, but she was as far from bookish as her cousin James was. She'd much rather be out playing Quidditch than reading a textbook, and as far as opinionated went, she preferred to go with the flow. Far be it from her to create waves where they weren't needed.

So, because she hated to disappoint her mother in yet another way, Rose smiled and agreed – again – to work harder at Arithmancy (which she'd be dropping the minute O.W.L.s were finished) and to keep out of trouble.

Ron smiled at both of his children sympathetically as Hermione managed to fit in one last lecture.

"Don't go wandering about after hours. Follow the rules. I don't any more letters saying you've been in detention either," she added, mostly to Hugo, whose eyes widened innocently. Rose hid a smirk; he wasn't fooling anybody.

The whistle blew then, and Ron and Hermione stepped back and let their children clamor onto the train yet again. Hermione clutched Ron's hand.

"They'll be fine, Hermione. They always are," he assured her.

"I know, I know," she said. "I'm being silly."

"Just a bit," he murmured, not unkindly. She shot him a glare.

"We almost got ourselves killed more times than I can count when we were their ages. Do you remember how _our_ fifth year went, Ronald?"

Ron grimaced. She only called him Ronald when she was annoyed with him. "All too well," he conceded.

"Exactly. Chasing after a man in a dream on flying horses we couldn't even _see_, breaking into the Department of Mysteries, battling Death Eaters, smashing priceless possessions of the Ministry of Magic…it was madness!"

"It was bloody fun though, wasn't it?" he asked, unable to completely hide a grin. He always relished memories of the adventures he and Harry and Hermione had had. They were times that would probably never come again – and good thing too, he knew – and he enjoyed remembering just how incredibly foolish and rash they'd been back then.

"_No!_" Hermione answered shrilly, ripping her hand out of his and crossing her arms. "It certainly was _not _fun. You were nearly sent to St. Mungo's Spell Damage ward, I got hit with nastiest curse I'd ever encountered, Harry nearly got himself killed, Sirius _did_ get killed, Neville broke his nose, the entire Order of the Phoenix had to come save our stupid hides…"

"Relax, Hermione," Ron said gently, taking her hands in his again. "None of that is going to happen to Rose and Hugo. Hogwarts is downright boring now compared to when we went there. No crazy Umbridges–" Hermione made a very unpleasant sound at the mention of their former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor "–no more Death Eaters, no more prophecies, no more Voldemort. They're _safe_."

Hermione huffed. They went through this every year: Hermione would dredge up old memories, usually involving all the ways they'd almost lost their lives while at Hogwarts, and Ron would comfort her, reminding her that those times were far, far behind them, and nothing was going to harm their children.

She knew it was illogical. She always felt foolish later for behaving so irrationally. Ron was right. Nothing was going to happen to Rose and Hugo.

-o-

"She's off her rocker, that woman," Hugo complained.

"She worries about us," Rose defended. "She and Dad went through hell when they went to school; she just wants us to stay safe."

"She's nutters if she thinks we're going to go chasing after dark wizards and run around dueling and stuff like they did. I don't even like scavenger hunts; I'm not about to go off following clues for some doomed adventure," Hugo muttered.

Rose grinned at her brother and ruffled his hair before heading off in search of her friends. After sticking his tongue out at her – "Very mature." – Hugo set off to find Lily and their group of mutual friends as well.

Rose shook her head. She and her brother would never quite understand each other, just as their parents would never entirely comprehend one another. They were too different. But in the end, Rose knew it didn't matter which parent she took after most or which parent Hugo took after. It didn't matter that she and her mother never saw eye to eye, or that she and Hugo had the silliest arguments known to man. They loved each other, and that was all that really mattered.

* * *

Wow, it's been awhile since I updated this, hasn't it? Well, here you are. I've gotten a few requests for Rose, and I've been trying to figure out her personality for awhile. I've written countless different snippets of her interactions with other characters, and none of them were quite satisfactory for me. She was either too abrasive, too whiny, or just plain too mean, and I didn't think that would work at all. I quite like this version of her, and it seems far more likely to me than to have her as a mini Hermione.

Anyway, please review. Review if you hated it if that's the case. Reviews are welcome in all forms. Please and thank you.

Always,  
Megan


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